featherwurm

[featherwurm]

Ah, the joys of bonding through doing each other's makeup.

Tav isn't really good at makeup nor does she wear much - she settles for smudging khol around her eyes to cut down on glare and that's that. If she's trying to be fancy she might put something on her lips. Karlach isn't the best, but she can line her own eyes fairly neatly and definitely is pretty good with some rather extreme looks if she puts her mind to it. Tav likes the attention and Karlach likes having someone willing to just let her do whatever. Plus Tav is great at staying super still.

Shadowheart may struggle with getting that perfect cat-eye on herself (settling for smokey looks), but thanks to years of practice with Nocturne, it's in her muscle memory to do it on someone else. Lae'zel is just harassing her because it's what she and Shadowheart do.

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I just think it would be really funny for these two to interact. Just what Aldiirn @mistercrowbar needs - another terrifying giant woman*. I'm sure he's wondering what the hell they're feeding these tieflings up here (Tav is just shy of Karlach's 7' at 6'9" - though she's more lithe). Zatavia is relatively harmless, all things considered (like... she's not a living bomb or a fragment of an evil god or anything) but she's kinda used to this sort of reaction**. "Mistress"*** is new though (she's only been down a few well-trodden Underdark paths before the events of BG3, just for brief monastery-related business in Gauntlgrym).

*Don't... don't think to hard about why they're in the same room, just whatever is funniest.

**So she's a little austere and intense, so what?

***In this context

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Thinking about what these goober's spice tolerance is - so here's some headcanons! Of course these aren't what they'll eat everything at - this is just the max they'll go for if heat is an option for a dish:

Astarion: -1, No Spice! He's not got the best time digesting... food anymore (probably can still manage things that are close to components of blood - sugars, water, proteins but still). There are some kinds of blood he would describe as being 'spicy' (Tav's for instance, since she's a tiefling) but he's not really a fan of heat. No pepper no nothing. Is mayonnaise spicy? Well...

Gale and Shadowheart: 1, A Little Spice. Neither of them are big on a lot of heat, but stuff to give flavoring and a little kick is good, stuff like sweet paprika, very small amounts of mace or cayenne, and more generous amounts of tarragon and chili pepper flakes are good. Sweet pickled peppers can be a nice side. Shadowheart is getting used to food outside the convent and Gale is used to Waterdeep fare which runs more rich and hearty than spicy.

Wyll: 3-4, A Moderate Amount of Spice. Spicy stuff is good, just not TOO hot. Bring on the Faerûn equivalents of Sriracha and Valentina, and PLENTY of Tabasco too. Poblano, anaheim, and jalapeño peppers are great as main ingredients. Curry and generally 'spicy' versions of classic foods are on his list of stuff that's tasty - pretty typical for a Bauldurian, honestly, the mediterranean climate of that area of the Sword Coast lends itself to heat in mainstay dishes. Do I want to eat a bag of blue Takis with Wyll Ravengard? Yes I do.

Lae'zel: 4-6, HOT. It depends on what exactly it is, but she likes stuff that's bright and spicy and burns your tongue. Sichuan peppers, hot curry powder, things that are labeled 'EXTRA HOT' are where she's happy. She'll eat habanero and scotch bonnet peppers just... on their own (though it's unclear if she actually likes this or she's just boasting). As she says, she has no weaknesses.

Tav: 6-9, VERY HOT. Hot, spicy, and enough to make you sweat and your mouth go numb. Birds-eye chilis and ghost peppers are pretty nice, she thinks. She'll always go for hot sauce if it's available - although she still values flavor over straight heat. Likes to order curries and noddles and so on as 'extra spicy.'

Karlach: 10, HOT AS YOU CAN GET, BABY. She's on the Hot Ones challenge going "oh this is a nice lunch actually" while taking more tastes out of the bottles because it's good. She'll eat a Carolina reaper straight up. She'll go for the novelty "EXPLODE YOUR ASS DEVILS HOT JUICE" sauces and 'one chip' challenges and sweat of course, but also just be like 'well that's fun!' Look, after the Hells, not much phases her and her iron constitution. (She and Tav easily share leftovers of equivalent 'Thai hot' takeout in the modern AU and can easily down an extra spicy hot pot with glee.)

[featherwurm]

Had a vivid dream the other night - the perspective character wasn't literally me but first person seemed the best way to tell it:

We have been comrades in arms for years, she and I. Her rage and mine harmonize with brutal efficiency, and we have slain those that would bring our people to harm. Although we did not know each other until we were grown, we are still bonded like sisters, and share our lives with each other. We have heard our home called barren and bleak, our ways brutish and cruel, and our way of life a threat to ‘decent’ civilizations. They simply try to brutalize us to further their expansion, and for centuries we have stood strong against those that would rise against us through the strength of wild fighting gifted to us by our gods long ago. We use it to battle strange creatures from the north, to catch and kill the megafauna that roams our territory, and to patrol the vast wastes that surround our cold and verdant lands.

For my friend, my love, the birth of her firstborn was terrible – even with medicine and midwife, care and attention, she struggled through violent pain, unforeseen difficulty, and terrible circumstance. It was a wonder she or the baby survived, but survive they did. Despite all better judgment, she has chosen to bear another child, and her husband and I both fear for her survival above all else. He stands with her in her decisions (as he should, I will kill him myself if he did not), but I fought with her over it, and we have been tense with each other since. She bears the pregnancy with grace, only retiring temporarily from our patrols and battles when she is nearly ready for birth, her armor adjusted each month to fit and her never fearing a fall from a horse or a landing blow from wayward spear (as it always is here – she is admirable).

The birth comes unexpectedly and at a bad time – it is herself, her husband, and I, remote and secluded, when contractions begin (their child, mercifully is with his mother at the moment, miles away). It is early, and it is harsh. We do what we can for her where we are. Any frustration I have had with her for this child is gone in my concern for her in this. Her husband mercifully can play midwife – he is more knowledgeable than myself, but I can do nothing but try to comfort her through pain and guide her through suffering. I offer what comforts I can – she bites hard into the flesh of my arm as her husband watches dilation and anxiously waits for the baby to come. We both fear for the worst.

Her pain turns to rage, the battle flame shimmers across her body in fine iridescent glow. This glittering magic sees us through violent attrition that would kill mortals. It is taxing – it only lasts a short while, it is dangerous – when it is done we are weak, exhausted, vulnerable, but it is our gift, and those blessed among us wield it as fury and death (I and she both do, her husband does not, he could not bear the trials to acquire it, but he has his many other skills). I cradle her head in my arms, as though I could protect her from this terror wrought on her body to bring another into the world. Her cheeks are smeared with my blood, awaiting the spill of her own down her legs. I cannot help but cry as her breathing becomes labored, her muscles tight. I tell her to bear with it – she tells me she isn’t in any pain at all.

In that moment, I feel her rage flare into me as her husband yells that the baby is coming and begs her to push. I know my own rage, I know its sense, I know how to ride it, how to wield it – this is not my own, it is all her. I know her – her moods, her wants, her feelings, but never like this. It’s all I can do to brace myself for the flood of emotion and sensation, I’ve never even heard of something like this, but I hold her tight as her husband guides her through. I am not in pain, but I do not move for fear of slipping into the well of frenzy from all I help her bear through this, and I hold her tight so she does not lash out while so vulnerable.

My job has gone from comfort to containment. This is not the time for rage, this isn’t how it’s used, and it’s pulsing through her in violent waves. I feel each one. While it subdues her pain it also heightens her awareness, beyond pain, everything in birth is so much. It is a mercy her weapons are out of reach, although if I were to not hold her arms, keep her head back, pin her down as best I can around her distended belly, I would fear for her husband and baby. But my strength and will match hers, and always have, she cannot overcome me even with this strange shared shimmering of her battle lust, my own forced back down my spine and my throat by my love for her, to keep her safe, to see her through this.

Time blurs and my perception narrows to pure, internal physicality. My vision is black, my bones are locked in place. Somewhere, her husband yells – I cannot tell what, but in my grasp and in my body the rage ebbs, her muscles relax, her screaming ends. I fear for her death above all, but this is not the quiet of eternal rest, and I let her go. I sit. All of us but one bloodied in our own way, her husband hands her a tiny, cleaned thing, healthy and crying. I can do nothing but sit back and breathe, whatever happened here is beyond me, but at least, at least, this has gone better than her previous child, and both are alive and seemingly well. I give a look to the father, and he sees me the same – I feel as bedraggled as he looks with sweat on his brow and tears in his eyes.

Our moment of peace is short lived. Doing as all mothers do, she offers the child her breast and the moment it latches on – both vanish. Her husband, the child’s father, and friend of mine nearly as long as her, and I are both left to sit in shock. This day grows stranger and stranger still. We are frozen for moments, seconds, perhaps even minutes until he utters her name in disbelief. This shakes me from my daze and I am to my feet again, digging my weapons out of the chaos of the last few hours.

But it all for naught, after moments pass she flashes back into existence – but this time she is not the exhausted new mother. She stands proud, infant at her breast, eyes hard, body naked and radiant. We both cannot express enough relieved concern to her, but she seems strangely calm and collected. For all that, she is warm and ready to push on, push back against our foes, ride with the hunt, kill on patrol. She is more focused and intense than I have ever seen or known her.

~

Time passes, the child grows, she is quiet and intense and a dab hand at any weapon we hand to her and show her its use. She is is never aggressive, or violent outright, she is gentle with the horses and the cats and all the other animals, she is patient with her elder brother and the other children, but one once struck her, and it was only her mother’s speed in holding her hand that halted what would likely have been a fatal blow.

Her mother has never been the same. She moves too fast now, too accurate, too clean. She fights brutally, she always has, but now it is with such strength I cannot match her. She uses her rage instantly and easily, and it never seems to tire her. Sometimes I still feel a resonance of it ache in my bones, though never so close as it was in the birth of her daughter. She was once my friend, dearest and most close, but I cannot find that person in her now. I stay close because I feel still wanted, I think I am still loved, but I feel strange. She says in that moment she was gone she met the avatar of our god who gifted us with the battle rage – it’s body made of the same shimmering and iridescent flame we know well molded into an armed and armored figure with nerves of red ichor flaring through its transparent body. It gave her a promise, one her husband and I can never seem to understand when she tells us what it is – the language grows strange and it slips off our minds. We know it involves the child somehow – it must. Her husband stays with her too, though he is often as tired, puzzled, and cold as I am, and we have comforted each other through this. Even if she never returns to who she was, we still loved her dearly.

We wonder if she struck a deal, or if she is just a pawn. She can’t seem to tell us. Perhaps this is the cost of our rage misspent. I use mine little these days, it is a fiery as ever, and my patrols still take me well into dangerous territory, but something about it puts me on edge, and the calm after is eerie and unsettling to me now.

[featherwurm]

Time for chapter three!  There isn’t really a good way to link chapters directly so far as I can tell, but anyway - we’re moving along.

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Karlach/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Dame Aylin | Nightsong/Isobel Thorm Characters: Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Tav (Baldur's Gate), Dame Aylin | Nightsong, Isobel Thorm Additional Tags: Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Female Tav (Baldur's Gate), Monk Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tiefling Tav (Baldur's Gate), Dungeons & Dragons References, Tieflings (Dungeons & Dragons), Location: Faerûn (Dungeons & Dragons), Strap-Ons, Vaginal Sex, Lesbian Sex, Adventure, Romance, Smut, Angst, Travel, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Baldur's Gate 3, Aasimar (Dungeons & Dragons) Summary:

After escaping Avernus and on their various travels together after saving Baulder's Gate, Tav and Karlach receive word from Aylin and Isobel of Sharrans rallying monsters in the area of Hundelstone at the Spine of the World to harass and convert. The four set out on a journey to find the heart of the cult and put a stop to what seems to be a greater plan to conquer and inhabit Icewind Dale and raise an army of frozen warriors to march South. The impact of Aylin's torment for a hundred years in the Shadowfell makes this quest difficult, but she is assisted by great allies - and this is a story of the four adventuring together (with some spicy interludes along the way - never as a foursome, but both couples independently enjoying themselves when they can).

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Tav and Karlach washing up at the Hissing Stones bathhouse after getting back to Baulder's Gate from another round of adventure. They'll go to the monastery and Tav's aunt's place eventually, but it feels good to get a good, deep, hot soak first.

Verna's is the greasiest of spoons with the most buttery fried eggs south of Waterdeep. Verna - the proprietor and deep gnome of indeterminate age is head cook and main waitress. She makes mean coffee, good bacon, and a surprisingly delightful cherry pie. Karlach is fond of the place (Verna always gives her an extra sausage or bacon or whatever).

Karlach isn't exactly thinking directly about it, but she's got someone who will gladly go places with her always, and she's grateful for it. Tav is too.

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Behold! A wild floot snoot (purple) and bloop snoot (blue) - ephemeral lil guys who eat bugs and wiggle through realities.

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A gentle touch.

Still under cut:

[featherwurm]

Simple little sea creatures - the octopus was just to test out cosclay, and it does exactly as it promises, which is very nice. The manta ray was just some scrap clay fiddling.

[featherwurm]

I'll be honest, this is just some scribbly teif comfort from when I was feeling kinda rough on this round of chemo. Let them be cozy.

I'm alright but drawing helps with catharsis and always has.

[featherwurm]

Who doesn't love a good meal? Tav loves how much Karlach enjoys food (Tav doesn't have the trauma Karlach does - but she does just emphatically love good food too. Her pleasures in life are simple).

Karlach hasn't had sunmelon for ten years - it tastes absolutely incredible after the foul rations of the hells. Tav is a sucker for fruit, especially sweet summer melon (her favorite is lychee, though she really likes stonefruits and berries too. Karlach's favorites are all of them.)

Karlach mentions early on a want of a whole roast chicken* - Tav is eager to quietly oblige such a simple request, as well before they're in anything resembling a relationship Tav is tremendously fond of her and wants to make her happy.

Tav "Gale, would you be willing to roast these chickens for dinner?"

Gale "Surely! Where did these come from?"

Tav "I bought them from the druids - could you please hold one for Karlach? Please?"

Tav was sure to buy/trade enough (their party has had no trouble with funds or barter with the grove - they're busy picking everything over out there in Faerûn) that their whole party would have a good meal, she was just sure to also get one extra for Karlach to have to herself. Barbarian rage burns a LOT of calories, though Tav is by nature someone who will try to see to it that everyone is fed - if Gale wasn't cooking she would be. Old habits from her dad.

*In her 'take a long rest immediately after the nautiloid' dialogue in her origin run. I figure in Tav's story she mentions it early on.

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You just know she's a biter.

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I'm tired and angry.

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A friend gifted me the Soul Reaver 1&2 remake and oh god I missed this fussy little ghoul so much.

I know HE doesn't have five minutes to sit down and think, but if he did, I think he'd definitely have to take a moment to consider his clan banner, one of the few things that didn't burn away, reduced to masking off his missing lower jaw.

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Karlach is still grappling with the complex grief of her parent's deaths. Tav had a rougher relationship with her family, although they still loved her, so she offers what comforts she knows how best to give - memory and feeling.

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I do like making a weird little guy in a mask.

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Tav's closet is a repository of weird shirts (all lopped into tank tops - she is allergic to sleeves) and Karlach uses them too (they're a little smaller on her than Tav but they're close enough to fit). They're bothering each other with gym selfies here which is all the sillier because they're literally at the same gym* at the same time for the most part. But hey, they're both confident people just enjoying themselves too (and Karlach knows how to tease - Tav is less... technologically oriented.)

From top to bottom, left to right:

"It's called broad daylight because women light up the world"

"Biggest slut at the public library"

"I'd rather be listening to Grammy-award winning 1999 hit SMOOTH by Santana feat Rob Thomas of Matchbox Twenty"

"Sorry for what I said while playing euchre"**

"This is my only shirt. I used the rest of my money to hollow my bones."

"Horses are the seahorses of the land"

Why does she have these? Well... at this point it's become a self-perpetuating thing. She thinks they breed in her shirt drawer (she can't possibly own this many tank tops... surely).

*The only reason Tav isn't currently bra-less and free.

**No, she's not.