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cheezits4lyfe · 5 months

Text

Crescendo - Strings of Fate Ch. 3

AO3 || Table of Contents

WC: 1.9k

CHAPTER SUMMARY: (Spongebob French Narrator voice) "two-thousand two hundred and sixty words lay-taihr", Gale is finally brought into the fold! Leandra tries to flee the Quaffing Quaggoth.

TW: religious trauma || disordered eating/food guilt || body image issues

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Chapter 3 - Crescendo

Most people know of “fight or flight”.

What many don’t realise until it’s too late is that there is a third class within this concept.

Fight, flight, or freeze.

Much to her chagrin, Leandra is one of the unfortunate “many” who fall into the “freeze” camp when faced with a dangerous situation.

A fact she didn’t know about herself until just now. Hurrah for learning.

With the closed quarters and poor lighting, Leandra can’t make out any details of the person holding onto her biceps. They weren’t letting go, but they weren’t dragging her away, either.

Though her body is unwilling to move, her mind and her mouth finally spring into action.

“Morgana sent you, didn’t she? Whatever she told you, it isn’t true.” Leandra tries to keep her voice measured and steady, but her pulse is racing as sweat trickles down the back of her neck.

The grip on her biceps lessens, but the figure remains. “I’m afraid I don’t know of this ‘Morgana’... or, of any Morgana for that matter. Though, perhaps I should be grateful I’ve never made their acquaintance if your tone of voice is any indication of the kind of person they are.”

Leandra didn’t recognize this voice, nor the silhouette of whoever this was. It was as if a coy smirk could speak. Lower timbre, warm tone, friendly lilt. Could a voice sound handsome?

Eyes adjusting to the low light, she gets a better look at the figure in front of her. Though Leandra is tall for a woman at 5’ 10”, this mystery man looked to be about 6’ 3”. Broad shoulders, chiselled jaw blanketed by well-trimmed stubble, longer curly hair tied half-back, and tailored robes with tasteful embroidery.

Whoever they are, there’s no way anyone this well-off would be associated with Morgana or her lackeys “Martyrs in Faith”. Leandra relaxes a bit, but is still on edge.

“I beg pardon, sær; I mistook you for another in this godsawful lighting. If you’re wanting to hire me for an event or other some-such booking, the owner has my information.” Leandra starts to walk away, peeking past the meagre curtains which separate the “backstage” from the rest of the tavern. He follows behind her, eyebrows cocked in curiosity at Leandra’s tense mannerisms.

“Miss, I do apologise if I startled you. I hadn’t realised it was such closed quarters back here; nor that you were so close to leaving—”

Only half-listening, Leandra’s eyes widen and a shiver runs down her spine as she peeks around the corner into the tavern. She notices a shorter, apple-shaped woman with mousy brown hair cut in a uniform, short length around her narrow face and beady eyes. She wears nondescript grey robes, with a humble pouch tied around her waist. The woman’s thin lips are pursed into an even thinner line as she scrutinises Baklin behind the bar.

“I-I’m sorry, sær, but I’m afraid I really must take my leave—something’s come up.” The man follows her eye line, noticing the very out-of-place woman speaking with the owner… as well as how Leandra’s posture tenses up even more at the sight of the woman. He gently but firmly places a hand on Leandra’s shoulder as she tries to slip past the curtains.

“Wait—if you need to leave undetected, follow me.” Leandra isn’t one to trust strangers off the bat. But, between the woman at the bar and this guy, she feels her odds are better with him.

Leandra gives a quick nod, which he reciprocates. He turns on his heels, quickly but quietly sliding along the “backstage” wall until he reaches a stack of mead barrels. Leandra follows closely behind, looking over her shoulder occasionally to make sure no one is behind them.

The man runs his hand down one of the staves of the middle barrel, revealing a hidden button. Upon pressing it, a soft unlatching sound can be heard; revealing the back alley. The man steps out, holding the secret door open for Leandra before closing it swiftly but carefully behind them.

Once out in the alleyway, relief washes over her. But, that relief is short-lived as she tries to think of where she can go. Leandra’s eyes dart back and forth, half checking to make sure she isn’t followed and half searching for the best way forward. “If they found me at the Quaggoth, they almost certainly know I’m staying at the Bard Inn…way to choose the most obvious inn possible, Leandra. You dumbass,” she thinks to herself in frustration.

The man who helped her slip out of the Quaggoth waves a hand in front of her, snapping Leandra back to reality.

“Lost in thought?” He uses a more lighthearted tone than Leandra finds appropriate.

“Something like that.”

The sun has set, but soft mage lights on the street give her a better view of the mystery man. He’s even more handsome than his voice led her to believe. He has streaks of grey peppered throughout his dark brown hair, a striking aquiline nose, and charming lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes. She gives him a tight, nervous smile as she holds her travel case and knapsack close to her person.

“You did me a real solid helping me slip out of there. I hope I can buy you a pint sometime to properly thank you for your kindness.” Leandra gives a polite nod as she starts down the alley.

“Do you have somewhere to wait out… whoever it is that you’re avoiding?”

Leandra pauses, then turns back to face him.

“No. Unfortunately, I don’t.”

The man walks up to Leandra, looking over their shoulders occasionally to make sure no one is walking toward them.

“If you’re willing to extend your trust just a mite further, I know somewhere close that they’d never be able to get to. I know I’m just some middle-aged stranger, but I assure you I mean nothing untoward. You just seem… in need of some help, in need of a friend.”

Leandra scans his eyes and body language thoroughly. Reading people is a skill she picked up early, and one of the most vital in her arsenal when it comes to surviving on the road as a lone, young bard. She just needs to get away from here, then figure out her next steps.

“I’ll follow your lead.” The man nods, then walks ahead of Leandra down the alley. He takes her hand in his to ensure she follows closely. The feeling of his soft skin and strong, sculpted hand around her pale, slender digits makes her heart skip a beat. Leandra brushes the feeling off as her nervousness from the situation, and focuses on following him out of the alley.

He looks both ways, then snakes them through various side-alleys, nooks, and crannies until they are near the harbour. To the east, a colossal statue of some sort of knight stands watch over the southern part of the city. Leandra’s ears perk up at the sound of a nearby group: a gaggle of tipsy students sing-shouting a drinking song with no sense of key or tempo. They walk with various slanted postures that make one wonder how any of them are remaining upright.

“Well, here we are.” The man’s voice snaps Leandra out of her distracted people watching to realise they’re now in some sort of garden. There is a groundskeeper’s quarters, some strange flora in a greenhouse, and a striking tower—all contained within stately stone walls.

“Gods above. I don’t know where we are, but it’s far too nice for the likes of me.” The grandeur of this place cracks Leandra’s usual defence mechanisms of false confidence and humour; allowing a sliver of the anxious, distrusting young woman she’s had to become show through. The kind stranger chuckles lightly to himself as he gazes at Leandra.

“You are more than welcome here. Please, make yourself comfortable.” The kind stranger smiles warmly as he gestures toward a nearby seating area with a flourish of his right hand. Leandra smiles politely, but slowly makes her way over to stand near the seating area as she takes in her new surroundings. Noticing her uncomfortable body language, the man goes to the settee across from her to respect her personal space. He clears his throat to break the silence.

“Judging by how long your set went, I doubt you’ve had any time for dinner.” The man gives her a sincere smile, hoping to help her feel more at ease.

Leandra lets out a breathy chuckle. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been following me. Or, you’re uncannily observant… which I’d argue is worse.”

The man gives a ‘guilty’ shrug and wince in jest. “Tonight was the first time I was fortunate enough to see a performance of yours, so I’m afraid it’s the latter.”

Leandra perches herself on the armrest of the settee to her left, placing her violin case and knapsack on the ground. “So, uncannily observant it is.”

The man chuckles as he gazes up into Leandra’s big, amber eyes. “My attention to detail has been described many ways. Uncanny, unrelenting, unfortunate, and many other adjectives which I won’t dare repeat in front of polite company.”

Leandra’s heart flutters as he smiles coyly at her. She averts her gaze down to her boots as she wraps her arms around her midsection, shivering slightly from a slight breeze coming off the coast. Before she can get in another quip, her stomach makes an ungodly murmur from her neglected hunger. Leandra blushes and clears her throat as a futile effort to cover the sound.

The man smiles politely at Leandra as he rises from his seat. “It’s settled then. I hope pork tenderloin and fingerling potatoes will do?”

“No need to go to such trouble, sær. You’ve already done so much.” Leandra’s protest is met with polite “tuts” from the man as he moves to stand between her and the entrance to his tower.

“Please, I insist. From my recent culinary endeavours, I have more leftovers than I know what to do with. Besides, my mother would disown me if I were to let a guest go hungry,” he says with a cheeky smile and glint in his eye. The man thinks for a moment, then moves to stand closer to Leandra while still remaining a respectful distance away.

“And if it’s allergies or dietary restrictions you’re concerned about, I can most certainly take those into account! I assure you, it’s no trouble at all,” he says with a kind smile.

He is so eager to please, to help. Leandra doesn’t know how to respond. She’s never met someone so genuinely altruistic as this gentleman…whose name she still does not know.

Leandra turns to face him more directly, still perched on the settee. “No allergies or special diets here. But, I can’t accept a meal from you in good conscience—I don’t even know your name.”

The man’s kind expression soon dissolves into one of quiet embarrassment. “Gods above, please forgive me. All this talk of trying to be a ‘good host’ and I forget my most basic manners. My name is Gale,” he says with an apologetic smile as he extends his hand to Leandra.

“Leandra,” she says as she shakes his hand. Her heart flutters again from the brief contact. The soft skin punctuated by a few subtle calluses, the defined veins and musculature, the feeling of her hand being delicately enveloped by his. It makes her core and cheeks flush in a way she’s never felt before. She withdraws her hand from Gale’s, hoping the rosiness of her face is hidden by the low light of the garden.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you properly, Leandra. I’ll be but a moment—please, make yourself comfortable in the meantime.” Gale pats the back of the settee Leandra’s perched upon before walking toward the tower. She watches as he becomes a distant silhouette; a faint sense of calm washing over her for the first time since she fled home as she breathes in the clear night air.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Table of Contents

s/o to these other wonderful Gale/Tav works on AO3 which inspired me to try writing my own fanfic for the first time! Definitely check them out if you haven’t already :)

first light by absoluteTomfoolery

Carrying Your Love With Me (and so much more) by MercyInReach

what should I do but tend by PouroverPaloma

Dekarioses of Waterdeep by Scotsomighty

also, s/o to these super helpful resources I've been using to write this!

Forgotten Realms Wiki

Obsidian Portal - City of Splendors, Dungeon of Madness

Waterdeep Interactive Map

Detailed Waterdeep Map by u/flamableconcrete (Reddit)

Detailed Waterdeep Ward Maps & Sublocations by u/RavenxAlmasy (Reddit)

Weather in the Realms (from Dandello's Faerûnian Almanac

1 note · View note

cheezits4lyfe · 5 months

Text

Interlude - Strings of Fate Ch. 2

AO3 || Table of Contents

**NOTE: This is a slow, slow burn I'm writing in real time, so apologies if there's a delay between postings!!

WC: 661

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Leandra goes to The Quaffing Quaggoth to try and earn some tips...but finds some unwelcome guests in the audience.

TW: religious trauma || disordered eating/food guilt || body image issues

------------------------------

Chapter 2 - Interlude

Just as Leandra predicted, The Quaffing Quaggoth already has a lively crowd of young nobles and merchants drinking, eating, and blabbering. Leandra looks around for the owner, and her eyes brighten to match her kind smile as she spots Baklin Stoneshaft: owner and bartender of the joint. Bussing tables and wiping down messes as he can, the dwarf snakes between tables until he spots Leandra. Dropping off the dirty glasses at the bartop, Baklin wades through the rowdy royals toward her.

“Well, well, well. Thought ya’d never come back the way this lot behaved last time.”

“Ah, it takes more than a few ill-mannered boys to scare me off, Mr. Stoneshaft.”

The dwarf waves his hand in polite dismissal. “Please, call me Baklin.”

“Alrighty…Baklin.” Leandra smiles politely before looking around at the crowd. “Well, it’s a bit early, but I figured I’d check if you could use some music?”

Baklin grabs the dirty cups from the bartop and gestures toward the stage by nodding his head over his shoulder. “You know where ‘backstage’ is. Go ahead and get yerself set up, let me know if any of these knobs give you too much trouble.”

Leandra chuckles and nods as Baklin busses the dirty dishes to the back of house. She walks toward the stage, then goes behind the small curtain to the broom closet that is the “backstage” of The Quaffing Quaggoth. She takes a moment to sit down, closing her eyes and enjoying the brief respite before opening her violin case.

As she grabs her cloth to wipe away excess rosin, a scrap of paper flutters out. She rests her violin on her lap before bending down to pick it up.

“Chains of greed bind; Hunger’s bite inspiring grasping hands; The Judge offers choice; The Righteous teach how to choose.”

Leandra furrows her brow in frustration and rolls her eyes as she reads over the verse, dripping with faux martyr-like humility. She crumbles it up and tosses it into a nearby bin, then turns to clean off rosin from her strings. Before heading on stage, she turns to the full-length mirror.

Her long, dark brown hair is tied half-back so it’s out of her way, but still frames her face. She adjusts her corset and tunic to try and give the illusion of cleavage (hopelessly, as usual). Looking at her tight brown pants, she sighs as her gaze trails down to the thickness of her thighs and the width of her hips. She adjusts her pants just enough to disguise her slight lower stomach, making her feel more comfortable with being on-stage.

After a quick once-over in the mirror, Leandra sighs and smiles. “Good as it’s going to get, I suppose,” she mutters, plastering on a polite smile before stepping on stage to some tipsy whoops and hollers.

Despite the amount of drinks flowing and the increase of patrons, everyone is pretty well-behaved and tipping generously. Leandra gets a few requests, engaging in some polite flirtation here and there until she feels her shoulders tensing up after a few hours of performing. She finishes her last jig with a flourish, then takes a bow before she returns to her little broom closet of a room behind the stage. The audience applauses politely as Leandra takes her leave.

Once “backstage”, Leandra sighs as she leans against the door. As she goes to place her violin in its case, she notices something odd near her rosin. It’s a rock with a strange symbol engraved into it, which glows with a sickly grey light. She examines it for a moment before her eyes go wide and her stomach drops. “Oh fuck me—”

Leandra quickly and meticulously repacks her violin before grabbing her knapsack and slipping out of the room. Already in flight-mode, she doesn’t register that there’s someone standing right outside her door. She runs right into them, and feels her legs go weak as she feels a strong grip on her biceps.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Table of Contents

s/o to these other wonderful Gale/Tav works on AO3 which inspired me to try writing my own fanfic for the first time! Definitely check them out if you haven’t already :)

first light by absoluteTomfoolery

Carrying Your Love With Me (and so much more) by MercyInReach

what should I do but tend by PouroverPaloma

Dekarioses of Waterdeep by Scotsomighty

also, s/o to these super helpful resources I've been using to write this!

Forgotten Realms Wiki

Obsidian Portal - City of Splendors, Dungeon of Madness

Waterdeep Interactive Map

Detailed Waterdeep Map by u/flamableconcrete (Reddit)

Detailed Waterdeep Ward Maps & Sublocations by u/RavenxAlmasy (Reddit)

Weather in the Realms (from Dandello's Faerûnian Almanac)

0 notes

cheezits4lyfe · 5 months

Text

Overture - Strings of Fate Ch. 1

AO3 || Table of Contents

**NOTE: This is a slow, slow burn I'm writing in real time, so apologies if there's a delay between postings!!

WC: 1.6k

WORK SUMMARY: Leandra Taldyr is a young, half-elf bard on the run. She's come to Waterdeep for the first time in the hopes of escaping her former life. But, even in a city as bustling as this, she soon finds that one's past isn't something that can be left behind so simply.

To survive (and, hopefully thrive) in this next chapter of her life, she'll have to learn how and whom to trust, hone her skills (old and new), and see herself for all she truly is instead of the falsehoods she's had ingrained into her mind in the past.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Leandra goes to an audition for the Waterdeep Symphony, before setting out on another evening of Barding.

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Chapter 1 - Overture

It’s a vibrant late Kythorn afternoon on the westside of Waterdeep’s Dock Ward. The brine of Deepwater Harbour and savoury scent of meats roasting outside of nearby inns mixes with the barks of fishmongers peddling their wares and idle chatter between passers-by to make for a lively but pleasant scene.

As she meanders down Belnimbra’s Street, Leandra adjusts the strap of her violin case on her back. She’s never been to a city as big or impressive as Waterdeep before, and hopes she blends in enough with the locals that she won’t be a target to any pickpockets (or worse).

Leandra mutters to herself as she scans the various shop signs. “Let’s see, where are you? Seven Masks Theater … Seven Masks Theater …” She glances down at a scrap of parchment in her hand, trying to be subtle so no one picks up that she isn’t from here. The directions scribbled down by her innkeeper, Gandril, are sparse but legible, at least.

“Sakiir’s Street — Belnimbra’s Street — The Slide. Odd name for a street,” Leandra says under her breath until she gets a look at The Slide’s shape. It’s a small, curved passage dotted by various shops and kiosks along the way. “Ah, here we go. I suppose it’s slide-shaped if you look at it the same way one searches for abstract shapes in the clouds…or if you’ve had enough to drink at one of these taverns.”

Walking in the shade provided by the shops on the western side of the street, Leandra spots the sign for the Seven Masks Theater. Her eyes shift from the theatre’s sign to a man standing across the way, staring straight at her. He’s horribly maimed, wearing nothing but bloodied rags and an intense gaze.

Leandra’s blood runs cold at the sight of him. None of the other pedestrians seem to notice him, and his eyes bore into her unwaveringly. Feeling queasy, she tries to steady her breathing as she scans for a way out of the tight alleyway.

This is just a figment of your imagination, Leandra.

He's not real.

He's not actually here.

She's not actually here.

There's no way. How could she know?

How could she find you?

A blink, and the man is gone. Though she wants to be relieved, Leandra feels a different wave of unease course through her at the suddenness with which the man disappeared. She snaps out of her paranoid crowd-scanning by the glimmer of the early afternoon sun; glistening off a nearby shopkeeper’s wares into her big, amber-brown eyes.

Bells chime in the distance, presumably from the belfry of one of the many temples in Waterdeep. It’s one o’clock — almost time for auditions to begin. She takes a breath to re-center herself, then rolls her neck over her shoulders as she walks toward the Seven Masks Theater.

Once inside, Leandra feels the tension in her body relax at the sight of fellow bards tuning their instruments, practising their fingerings, and running various scales and arpeggios. It’s always been a comfort to her that no matter where she goes. Wherever there is art and fellowship, Leandra feels a sense of home. Or, what she imagines “home” is supposed to feel like.

She scans the walls until she spots a long piece of parchment with a quill and ink on a nearby table. It reads “Waterdeep Symphony Audition List” at the top. The various columns include time slots in ten minute increments, and spaces for auditionees to write their name and instrument.

Leandra grabs the quill and taps off excess ink, then hovers over the space for an audition an hour from now. She writes “violin” under the “Instrument” column, then hesitates under the “Name” column for a moment. Hearing someone passive-aggressively clear their throat behind her, Leandra snaps back to attention and notices a short line of bards has queued behind her. She quickly writes “Leandra Taldyr” under the “Name” column before returning the quill to the ink, smiling apologetically to her fellow bards as she walks away.

Searching around for a quiet corner, Leandra finally takes a true look around at the theatre and feels a bit underdressed … and, perhaps, underqualified. She had been told the Seven Masks was a good place to start her non-tavern audition circuit; not so hoity-toity that she couldn’t get through the front doors, but not so shady that she’d be unlikely to leave completely unscathed.

But, the Seven Masks is easily the most beautiful place she’s ever seen. Lush violet carpets with intricate brocade patterns, handsome silver lighting fixtures on the walls and ceilings which emit a soft blue glow, and delicate lunar decals throughout the theatre as a nod to the city’s crest. “If this is the middle-class venue,” Leandra thinks to herself, “I can’t even fathom how nice the theatres must be in the rich part of town.”

Leandra finally rounds a corner where she can barely hear the sounds of the other bards warming up by the entrance. She spots a velvet chaise between two sconces and gently sets her travel case on it. As she pulls out her rosin and bow, her stomach makes an ungodly sound. Partly nerves, but mostly from hunger.

She’d been lucky to strike an arrangement with Gandril, owner of the Bard Inn, to perform five nights a week for a free room and any tips she received. But, patrons’ pockets had been light recently. That, or her playing had gotten worse. Perhaps a mix of both. Between the boisterous sailors partying downstairs nearly all night long, and Leandra’s stress about booking a proper job to truly start her life here, rest hadn’t come to her easily. Not that rest was something she was terribly accustomed to in general.

Leandra searches through her knapsack for something to eat, or a few pieces of silver to get something nearby that can tide her over. But, when she looks where her money is usually kept, she finds a neatly-cut hole. Any tips, along with whatever scraps of bread or dried fruit she may have had, are long gone. “Hells—well, so much for having a night off,” Leandra mutters to herself in frustration.

She puts her bow and rosin back in her case, then pulls out her map of Waterdeep. She’s scribbled notes about the inns, taverns, and intersections where she’s performed over the past few tendays. The best times for good earnings, which spots offer meals for performers, and her patented “creep-to-tip” ratio (or, how much creepy behaviour she had to endure from patrons versus how well they tip, and if said ratio is worth enduring). Though she had never been formally educated, Leandra was bright and enjoyed reading, cultivating research, and exploring.

Scanning over her notated map, Leandra’s eyes drift to nearby inns and taverns where she might perform to earn some tips … and hopefully a meal.

“‘The Blushing Mermaid’ … ritzy, nice owner (Lady Moonstar), stuffy but stingy patrons. Only worth visiting on holidays (stress-drinking + festive goodwill = loosened pursestrings) ”

“‘The Grog House’ … glorified latrine with similar quality of food, drink, and vagrants patrons. DO NOT RETURN!”

“‘The Ship’s Prow’ … decent spot, decent drinks/food, decent tips. Decent place to play if nowhere else jumps out”

“‘The Quaffing Quaggoth’ … wannabe dive bar for wannabe “somebodys” of Waterdeep (merchants, young nobles). Patrons over-tip to one-up each other, but are obnoxious. Worth occasionally tolerating for a good night of tips”

Leandra scans over her options, the uncomfortable rumbling in her stomach drifting her eyes back to The Quaffing Quaggoth. “One good night there could get me back on track…” Leandra mumbles to herself. Outside, bells ring to signify it’s half-past the hour.

She sighs, partly with resignation and partly to try and refocus herself. “Alright, Leandra. Just get through this audition, then head to The Quaffing Quaggoth. There’s bound to be some rich bastards there drinking before sundown. Maybe you’ll get enough to still call it an early night,” she mutters to herself as she pulls out her violin, shoulder rest, and bow. After quickly tuning her instrument and running through some scales and arpeggios, she practises some of the more difficult runs of her audition solo.

Five minutes before her audition time, Leandra grabs her violin case and knapsack to walk back toward the entrance. Most of the bards she saw earlier are gone, presumably having already auditioned and left. New bards have taken their places, preparing their instruments and repertoire to make for a quiet cacophony of individual rehearsals.

Once her name is called, Leandra walks in with a polite smile and a copy of her sheet music for the judges. She runs through the required scale and arpeggio before moving onto her solo piece, a lively sonata which is always a crowd favourite. After completing her repertoire, she takes a polite bow before grabbing her sheet music from the judges to leave.

Back in the lobby, Leandra shuffles to an empty wall to pack up. There are a handful of bards left, each nervously chattering about when audition results will be posted. “They’ll be up by tomorrow at midday,” Leandra hears one of them say, which is confirmed by other bards nearby.

Violin and sheet music repacked, Leandra sighs as she pulls out her map to check where The Quaffing Quaggoth is in relation to the Seven Masks Theater. “All right, where are we…ah. A left onto Belnimbra’s, right onto Sail Street, right onto Lackpurse. Easy,” Leandra says as she tucks her map back into her violin travel case before slinging it over her shoulder to go.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Table of Contents

s/o to these other wonderful Gale/Tav works on AO3 which inspired me to try writing my own fanfic for the first time! Definitely check them out if you haven’t already :)

first light by absoluteTomfoolery

Carrying Your Love With Me (and so much more) by MercyInReach

what should I do but tend by PouroverPaloma

Dekarioses of Waterdeep by Scotsomighty

also, s/o to these super helpful resources I've been using to write this!

Forgotten Realms Wiki

Obsidian Portal - City of Splendors, Dungeon of Madness

Waterdeep Interactive Map

Detailed Waterdeep Map by u/flamableconcrete (Reddit)

Detailed Waterdeep Ward Maps & Sublocations by u/RavenxAlmasy (Reddit)

Weather in the Realms (from Dandello's Faerûnian Almanac)

0 notes

cheezits4lyfe · 5 months

Text

A Piece of Me

AO3 || WC: 2.7k

SUMMARY: Before departing on a long voyage to bring more refugees to the healing Shadowlands, Halsin has a gift for you to use on those cold, lonely nights.

TAGS: Masturbation, Fluff and Smut, POV Second person, AFAB Tav**

**NOTE: mostly Gender Neutral Tav/Reader, but tagged as AFAB Tav/Reader b/c of descriptions in the final 1/3 (or so) of fic <3

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Since banishing the cult of the Absolute and ridding yourself of your parasite, you and Halsin have begun to make a wonderful life for yourselves in the healing Shadowlands—or, Relthwin as it’s now called. It means “refuge”, according to the dictionary you’ve been studying to brush up on your elvish.

After the final battle, you remained in the city to help rebuild for nearly 2 seasons while he returned to what is now Relthwin. There was once a time you could never imagine living anywhere but Baldur’s Gate. That all changed when you met Halsin. The two of you had bonded, body and soul. And though no amount of time, distance, or trials would change that, your very being ached with every passing moment the two of you had to be apart.

Once your work rebuilding your home city was complete, you wasted no time getting to Relthwin. Despite how passionate and physical your relationship had always been, your reunion with Halsin burned with a fervour that surprised even you. It was a miracle anything got done in the first few tendays after you moved into the cottage Halsin built on the outskirts of the settlement. Your hands scarcely left one another, except when basic needs could no longer be ignored. Even Halsin made sure his advisors knew not to step onto the grounds of your home as the two of you reconnected, unless all of Relthwin were aflame (and even then, he wasn’t sure if he’d consider it reason enough for interruption from attending to his love).

Nothing felt as right as when your bodies became one. Halsin makes you feel so complete, knowing exactly what to do and when to do it without you hardly needing to speak. Though you tried satisfying your own needs on many a lonely night in Baldur’s Gate, nothing felt as good as this. As him. Your tight wetness stretching to accommodate all of him, eagerly and completely; the lewd sounds of his thrusts mixed with your soft moans and coos. It felt like it had been an eternity since you’d been together, and you couldn’t fathom how you ever survived without him.

When you were helping to rebuild the city, you fantasised about your many nights together (more often than you’d like to admit). Hoping it would help you find the release you needed. Try as you might, nothing satisfied your body’s carnal hunger the way Halsin did. Masturbation was a mere snack that could barely sate your seemingly ravenous desire.

But, the wait was finally over, and you intended to make up for lost time.

One evening, you laid breathlessly on his chest as he held you in his arms. Basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, you blurted out something you had intended to keep as a thought to yourself.

“Gods, I missed your cock.”

The words left your mouth before you could stop yourself. You covered your mouth and face, a flush rose to your cheeks from a mix of shock and embarrassment. But, Halsin was neither off-put nor judgmental. He merely chuckled as he gazed down at you on his chest.

“Is that so, little one?” Though you were still mortified by your lustful confession, you nodded.

Halsin smirked as he pulled you closer to kiss the top of your head. He started to play with your hair; the tenderness of the gesture contrasting with the sultry look of his half-hooded eyes as he gazed down upon you. Your embarrassment began to fade, so you told Halsin of how you tried to satisfy your…baser desires whilst helping to rebuild in Baldur’s Gate. As well as how those attempts never satisfied you in the way Halsin could. How you’d gone months without finding true release until you'd rejoined him in Relthwin.

“My love…so long as I have breath in my lungs, you shall never go wanting again.”, he said with a murmur as he held you close.

Eventually, you needed to establish yourself more with the community and Halsin had duties of his own to attend to in the burgeoning settlement. Your days became full of crafting, building, farming, scavenging, and connecting with your new community as Halsin performed his various responsibilities. But once the sun set, nothing in all the realms mattered but the two of you.

Home-cooked meals, quiet nights reading by a crackling fire, soaking nude in moonlit hot springs, torrid exploration and reverent worship of each other’s bodies and souls. From the domestic to the erotic, you did it all with equal love and passion, and you did it all together.

Compared to the gauntlets thrown your way whilst fighting the cult of the Absolute, and even the challenges of your life before all this, you truly want for nothing now. You have the love of your life, a charming cottage, a wonderful community, and endless opportunities to forge a blissful life.

So, when Halsin tells you he has to travel southwest to guide refugees seeking a new life to Relthwin, you are caught off-guard by a feeling you haven't experienced since that final battle in Baldur’s Gate: distress.

Halsin’s genuine altruism is one of the traits that first drew you to him, and one of the things you still love most about the man. But godsdamnit if you didn’t wish he could stay. After fighting for so long, and having to already be apart for nearly two seasons, the selfish part of your brain baulks at the idea of being separated from the love of your life.

You try to hide your disappointment, and focus on all the good it will bring Relthwin. New craftspeople, builders, teachers, families, and people who are eager to make the most of the second chance this settlement offers. But, ever the wise druid, Halsin senses your distress at the news.

“I know you’re disappointed, my heart. Believe me: I can hardly bear to be apart from you for even a moment. Your time staying back to help rebuild Baldur’s Gate was… agony.”, he says earnestly, gazing down at you with his striking hazel eyes. “But, the most important work in life does not come without sacrifice.” He presses his forehead against yours as he envelops you in his big, strong arms. You let out a slight chuckle.

“And here I thought I was hiding my feelings well,” you tease as you pull back slightly to cradle his face in your hands. “I’m so proud of you, and all the work you’ve done to make Relthwin what it is. And I support you doing whatever it is you need to make this dream become all it can be.” You gaze up lovingly at Halsin; sincerely proud and deeply in love with him, but also truly upset to know he’ll be gone for several tendays.

Reading your expressions, Halsin gently runs his thumb along your cheekbone as he smiles down upon you. “You are so good to me, my heart. I’m continually in awe of your selflessness and kindness…but, I’m not leaving you empty-handed.”

“Oh?”, you ask with piqued interest. Halsin’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he takes your hand to guide you toward the breakfast nook of your cottage. On the charming handmade table lies a wooden box. With a distinct tigerstripe grain, striking sheen, and delicate hand-carvings of your favourite flowers, you can’t help but gasp at the beauty and sentimentality of it all.

“Darling, it’s…it’s beautiful. You made this for me…?”, you ask as you gaze upon the box with incredulity. Halsin chuckles, the points of his ears flushing as his loving smile turns seductive.

“I did. Though, the true gift is inside.” Halsin takes the box in his large, sculpted hands as he gazes down at you. “The connection we share is unlike any I’ve ever experienced. The things your body does to me…” Halsin chuckles to himself as his eyes briefly flicker across your form. “Let’s just say, all of me belongs to you. And, though I hope our times apart are very few and far between, I wanted to give you something to…hopefully make those times a bit easier.”

Halsin smiles as he lifts the lid off of the box, handing it to you to peek inside. The box is lined with burgundy silk, cushioning some kind of wooden sculpture. You carefully pull it out, and your eyes widen as you recognize the shape.

It’s…it’s a likeness of Halsin’s member.

The girth, the veins, the tip, the borderline-shocking length. This had been in your hands and your various holes more times than you could ever hope to count. But holding it in your hands without Halsin’s massive frame for scale, it somehow looks even more daunting. “How do I even take all this??” , you think to yourself in shock.

“This is quite a departure from whittling ornaments and ducks,” you tease. Halsin laughs and pulls you closer to him. But, as you gaze down at the likeness, your pupils dilate from desire and you feel a warmth building in your core.

“When you told me how you struggled to give your body the satisfaction it deserves while alone in Baldur’s Gate, I knew I had to do something.”

Though wooden, the likeness feels perfectly smooth and has just a bit of give to it. The way the wood grain complements the veins has your mind racing with filthy thoughts. You can’t take your eyes off of it, so eager to feel yourself stretch around the erotic sculpture.

“Is it…safe?”

Halsin nods. “I made it out of Calantra wood for its durability and capacity for…handling the byproducts of self-pleasuring.”

Though you didn’t think you could possibly feel any more flustered, your cheeks sting and burn from blushing. As you remain speechless, Halsin reaches into the silk-lined box to pull out a delicate bottle of a viscous blue liquid with a droplet cap.

“And, if you’re ever in a rush to find your release, this should help.”

You open the bottle, adding a few drops onto the hand-carved phallus until it glistens in your hand. The sight makes you squeeze your thighs together from the surge of arousal. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Halsin’s cock begin to strain in his pants. Your eyes trail upward until they meet his; both of you gazing hungrily and eagerly at one another.

“I suppose I should make sure I know how to use this properly…before you set out on your journey,” you murmur seductively as you work the lubricant across the hand-carved member.

Halsin’s hazel eyes flicker gold for a brief moment as he nods, taking your hand as you guide him to your bedroom.

You start untying your breeches, but Halsin takes both of your hands in one of his to stop you.

“May I…?” His voice is tender, but his eyes gleam with ravenous desire. You nod, turning to face Halsin as he takes his time to undress you. He caresses and feels every inch of you with his strong hands, growling low as a possessive smirk washes across his face with every bit of your clothing he removes.

Your breeches hug your supple hips and thighs as he pulls them down slowly, relishing in the subtle give Halsin’s fingers find as they trail down your shapely limbs. As he goes to remove your underclothes, he kneels to place tender kisses and nibbles along your lower tummy and inner thighs—sending shivers throughout your core.

He slowly rises to stand as he removes your tunic over your head. His eyes lustfully graze across your soft stomach, your full and rounded breasts. He works his hands to your back to remove your brassiere, teasing your nipples with his thumbs as he goes. You let out a shaky sigh from the sensation, feeling a warmth pulsating in your core and building throughout your body from his ministrations.

Once you’re fully nude, Halsin looks you up and down with a mix of awe and possessiveness. “You are a goddess,” he murmurs with lustful reverence. He makes quick work of his own clothes, taking his time to pull his shirt off over his head (something he knows drives you absolutely crazy).

You slide back onto the bed, placing the hand-carved toy to the side as you pull Halsin closer to kiss you tenderly. He deepens the kiss further, his tongue exploring your mouth as you reach down between your legs to find that your lips are already swollen and wet with arousal. You moan softly as Halsin moves to kiss and nibble along your neck while you tease your throbbing clit.

Unable to wait any longer, you reach for the likeness of Halsin’s member. Though you’ve made more than enough lubricant of your own, it’s still slick with the oil you added. Halsin slides back, sitting on his knees as he watches you spread your legs. Your eyes flicker down to see he is rock hard at the sight of you, swollen, wet, and wanting. Biting your lower lip as you gaze at his cock, you reach your free hand down to carefully part your sensitive folds to slide in your new toy.

Slowly working it in, inch by gasp-inducing inch, your breath catches in your throat until you finally feel yourself fully stretched around it. The girth, the firmness of the tip, the way it curves to hit your g-spot just right; Halsin had created as close to an identical copy of his member as you could ever hope to find.

Though you felt yourself already growing wetter as you began to pump the toy in and out of your tight heat, your arousal surged as you opened your half-lidded eyes to see Halsin watching you. Stroking his own cock as his eyes, glimmering and pupils blown wide, eagerly watch you work the facsimile of himself into you. His free hand reaches for one of your supple thighs, sinking into your flesh as he gazes upon you.

“Look at you. How you take all of me. Such a good girl,” he growls as he begins to massage his member with more fervour. His praise, his touch, his look, and feeling a recreation of himself deep inside you—it’s almost too much. Yet, not enough. You cry out as you reach up to tease one of your nipples, your other hand working your toy in and out of your cunt. The lewd sounds of your own wetness with each thrust only add to the ecstasy building within you.

“G-Gods, Halsin, you’re so thick…so godsdamned big…” you moan as you feel your core tightening, preparing for release. Halsin groans deep in his throat as he recognizes the look on your face and what it means, working the head of his cock with even more intensity as it glistens with his own precum.

“Tell me,” he growls, sinking his fingers deeper into your supple thigh.

“T-Tell you…?” you gasp between moans, struggling to keep your eyes open as you gaze up at him.

“Tell me…what you missed.” Halsin’s breaths are almost as rapid as your own. Overwhelmed by the sensations building within you, it takes a moment for you to realise what he’s asking for.

“I-I missed your cock,” you whimper. Halsin’s breath catches in his throat as your words push him over the edge, and you cry out—removing your one hand from your breast to sink your nails into the bed as you find your own release.

Sweaty, breathless, and satisfied, you lay back on the bed. With his spend in one hand, Halsin leans down to kiss you tenderly as he caresses your cheek with his other.

“You…are a marvel,” he whispers between kisses. You chuckle breathlessly as you pull back slightly from Halsin, shakily pulling your new toy out of your throbbing, tender cunt. The carving glistens with some translucent white on its top and sides, proof of just how thoroughly you were satiated. Halsin lets out a satisfied hum at the sight of it, leaning down to kiss you passionately.

He pulls back to admire you, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb. “So…will this do? While I’m gone?”

You give him a cheeky smile and gaze up into his beautiful, hazel eyes. “It’ll do.”

-------------------

DISCLAIMER: please don't use a wooden dildo IRL (wood is porous, and therefore very difficult to clean). But, the idea of Halsin making a sex toy of his cock for his partner b/c nothing else satisfies the same, just...yes please.

This was a one-off fic I was randomly inspired to write. But, I'm also trying my hand at my first longform/slow-burn fic: Strings of Fate! Always grateful for anyone who checks it out and provides feedback :)

(And, for any fellow Gale girlies out there, I have a one-off fic I'll be writing and posting soon!!)

If anyone else is a nerd like me and likes sources, below are the ones I used RE: lore about usable woods in Faerun (lol) - Volo's Guide to All Things Magical (Calantra Wood pg. 60-61)

- Forgotten Realms: Calan

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