pursuitseternal

[pursuitseternal]

A character study of Halsin I’ve done recently. This is my third time drawing him and I love seeing how my art style has changed over time. I’m thinking of using this study for another illustration. Will share it sometime soon!💚🐻

[pursuitseternal]

Dryad Love Test: Merelind and Gale

Thank you for the tag @nyx-knox This one was a challenge to think of… until Mer and Gale just started yapping in my head.

Rules: Think of three answers with approval, disapproval and explanation.

HAPPINESS

Zethino: The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous. When is Merelind happiest?

(+) when she has a drink in her hand… or a book… or … uh… me in her hand I guess? (Hard flustered wizard noises)

M: The last being my favorite.

(N) When she’s being pampered and spoiled like the royalty she is

M: Mmm… I mean, yes, but maybe a little deeper a meaning between us than mere things?

(-) When she’s listening to me give a highly detailed discourse on my favorite topic of the day

M: 😒 I’m sorry… were you saying something important?

DESIRES

Zethino: Many things delight the heart, but only one thing makes it sing. Tell me, what does she desire most?

(+) Freedom from divine shackles. For her, and… for me.

M: Oh Gale, they should fear us, what we will do once we are freed

(N) a warm rose scented bath and her favorite wizard to massage out the aches of the day.

M: Oh, oh yes that does sound pleasant. Not sure it’s what I most desire.

(-) Sex. Good gods, does she like sex. I mean… (horny wizard huff) Insatiable, this one.

M: 😒 Thanks Gale.

FEARS

Zethino: Fear sits in the soul of it all-to tame it, we must name it. What is her deepest fear?

(+) Becoming the monster she fears herself to be.

M: (heavy sigh) sometimes it’s only you keeping me from that darkness, my rose.

(N) being alone. Being left alone. Being without… well, me, I guess.

M: tch. You make me sound like a lost child. But you’re not entirely wrong.

(-) having to go to Sorcerous Sundries without me. I mean, have you been to that store (happy wizard noises)

M: 😒 I mean…. I’m kinda thinking you could use some alone time right now, Gale.

(+) Merelind: Hmm, a perfect score, my Wizard. There’s a reason I’m your rose, and you are mine.

(N) Merelind: Well, you’re close. I’d say, middle marks for you. Good thing you like to study… you’re going to need it for next time.

(-) Merelind: Tch. This rose is wilted and needs to get a drink. Excuse me.

Tagging, no pressure bc it’s long (but fun!): @thequietfaun @usherdownthesky @astarfruity @scrapsovereign @vixstarria @tragedybunny @snowfolly @astarioffsimpmain @charmandabear

[pursuitseternal]

Last line tag game

Thanks for the tag @nyx-knox

Mine is not a fic, but a note made at the start of a new WIP

Making Gale angry by thinking you signed the contract with Raph

Tagging: @usherdownthesky @thequietfaun @snowfolly @tragedybunny @kowashites @redisbetterr

[pursuitseternal]

“𝒢𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒟𝑜𝓌𝓃… 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇:” 𝒜𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝒸

Astarion x f!Reader | E | 2 K

🎨 by @rozelunar on BSKY Full image

Summary: Your vampire love suggests going down by the Chionthar after a hot summer day. You think it’s to cool off, only to realize how hot it’s about to become…

CW: p0rn without plot, semi public sex, oral fem receiving, overstimulation, dom!astarion if you squint, scent kink, possessive, hungry, sassy, feral Spawn Astarion

Ao3 link | series link | Masterlist

“Hells, you know I am not one to complain about the sun,” he says as you stroll down the bluffs of Rivington, watching your step, “but I will complain about the heat.”

Astarion guides you with expert grace down the sharp incline, all that roguish stealth and elvish grace coming in handy. His hand is cool in yours, a blessed relief from the heat of the day. Finally in sight of the Lower City, and tasks just seem to pile on at this point.

That’s where your lovely cheeky little pup of a Vampire suggested you seek a way to cool down. But given the tone he had used to do the suggesting, you suspect…

Well, maybe better not suspect. He had asked for space. Time. A chance not to be used for pleasure.

But even still, your nights were filled with cozy cuddles and bloodied feedings. Little ways you were each warming back up to sex being something more between you.

And that thought pounds in your head as he throws you that rakish smirk with the narrowed eyes as you finally reach the riverbank.

The Chionthar.

It rushes past you, briny water that gurgles and swells. The hint of spray that the wind carries from over its waters soothes you instantly. “Hells, this was a good idea…” You hum in delight, extending your arms up to let the spray cover as much of you as it can.

“Darling, I’m full of good ideas, just nobody asks me,” Astarion teases, coming up behind you. His scent surrounds you, his fragrance, but also that smell that is just him… Undead whiff or not, you crave it. It means he’s close to you, and you turn your head to bury your nose into the cool sweaty skin of his neck. “I suggested going down by the river, and you were wise enough to listen…” his lips press to the sensitive skin of your ear before he purrs, “…like the good girl you are for me.”

You feel something long and wet and cool lave up your pulse point. His tongue bathes your neck over those scars that have formed in your flesh. A sort of mark he’s made on you.

His claim to his favorite little treat.

“You know you smell delicious after working up this filthy sweat on your skin. All that running around and fighting,” he purrs under your ear, more tingles and shivers racing down your spine. The pleasure coils in your belly.

Slow. Careful. Not just about sex. You remind yourself as you tilt your head. “You don’t smell too bad yourself, you know. And here we are, only a night away from the Lower City… and your chance at freedom after that.” You reach around behind you, threading your fingers in his damp, bloodied, silver curls. “You’ll be your own Master after that’s done.”

He hums, tickled at the prospect. “A delicious thought but… not half so tempting as you are, right now, hmm?” You hear the hiss of his fangs baring a second before they pierce your neck, that ice and thrilling feeling making your head spin.

Not from blood loss. You’re used to it now. No, he seems forward tonight. Brazen.

Hungry.

And you squeeze your thighs together to feel his lips sucking your blood, to hear his loud and sloppy gulps as he feeds right under your ear. Just as you reach that edge of fuzzy warmth and blood loss, he pulls off you, a wet moan from his lips.

Normally, he’d let you go, release your body so he could hunt and seek the release he needed once your blood filled his undead body. His bloom of life. His hardened cock.

But tonight, as the stars start to come out, he actually pulls you closer. That bulge at your hip presses harder, his body shifting as he guides you toward the rocks along the river’s edge.

“Hmm, delicious as you were, I find myself still ravenous, darling,” he rasps in your ear. With all that predatory grace you see in battle, he slinks around you, caging you in. “And here you are, smelling like a feast…”

You gulp, the lump in your throat burning almost as much as your belly does now. A pleasant shiver down your spine as you have no place to run, and his tone… gods how you had missed it from before your conversation in the Shadowcursed Lands. He purrs for you, hunger weighting every syllable. That wiry, lean body of his pulls back just a moment, red eyes dilated and glinting in the moonlight. He peers down at you, licking his fang as he pulls his shirt off his pale body.

But that’s the only reprieve he grants you, hands at the back of your head to tilt you up for a kiss. Fangs and tongue consume you, and you lose your mortal breath and steady bearings.

Lost in that scent of citrus and rosemary and sweat.

His touch wanders to your dress, pulling the whole of it off your head. Another half a breath between you before he pulls your naked frame against you.

Burning you reach for him, hands gripping into those infernal scars on his back. “You sure… ‘bout this?” You have to ask, even as your body turns to putty in his hands, as you melt against the copse cold caress of his body.

“Darling, so close to freedom I can taste it…” he growls into your mouth before he slides you up on the rock and drops to his knees, face pressing above your mound, “but I must taste you first.”

Those skilled fingers push your thighs further apart. How many times had you watched them at work, picking a lock, wishing that lock was between your thighs. His nose presses in first, a sweet little pressure on your clit. You can feel his eyes on you, staring at you, boring a hole right through you… but it’s all you can do to lean back against the rock and roll your hips a little to encourage him.

Hot, so hot from the summer's day, it’s the cool kiss of his tongue through your drenched and searing seam that makes you cry out. And that noise from your throat as your thighs clamp around his perfect silver-curled head only makes him laugh.

That high pitched little giggle tickles your clit as his tongue flicks it mid-laughter. “Something the matter, darling?” He murmurs, voice muffled as he works you. His lips suckle around your clit, long, elegant fingers sliding into you with force, having to make enough room between your thighs just to reach.

Another breathy chuckle, and you feel the razor edge of his fang dragging on your outer lips. “I told you, we would go down by the river. Do not act so bashfully shocked.”

You whine, rolling your hips and letting out the debauched moan you've been keeping inside as you grind your clit on the tip of his nose. Your hand reaches for those messy silver curls, legs hooked behind his head as you pant. The rush of your blood in your ears is louder than the flow of the river, but all of that is nothing to the sounds of his tongue and lips that devour you.

Core pulsing, you feel the drag of his fingers on that bundle of nerves deep in your cunt. Your walls clench, squeezing his sinful digits inside you. Trapping them. The sensations in your cunt blind you. You buck and you grind. “I missed this… you. I missed the way I feel… close to you like this, fuck,” you whine. Your mouth slackens, the murmurs of your confession to your vampire pouring from you.

As if your slick isn’t the only thing he’s sucking forth from you, your true feelings teased out by his attentions.

You’re breathless as you stammer and sputter from the heart. “Safe… we are going to keep you safe, free you from Caza— ahhhh!”

Your voice breaks as he turns his head and clamps his fangs into your thigh.

“Don’t say his name while I’m feasting, darling.” He sucks your blood with a groan, licking his lips and staring at you with eyes that seem to glow vermillion in the starlight. “Scream mine, instead, my little treat.”

A deep giggle in his throat and he plunges his face back between your thighs, feasting indeed. He leaves not one bit of your sex untouched. Fingers knuckle deep, tongue laving up every drop of our cum. As he sucks your clit over and over again, you obey him, screaming his name to the heavens above.

“A good girl,” he purrs, your orgasm making your walls stick snug to his fingers, your thighs clamp to his head.

And just when you think he might pull away, just as you feel that orgasm turning to warmth and relaxation….

Your vampire gives that breathy high giggle, lips still sucking around your sex in an open-mouth kiss…

Then he gives a ruthless nip at your clit with those blunted front teeth.

“Fuck me, Astarion!” you scream again, fluttering hard in your core once more.

“Mmm, yes. A tongue fuck where you’re going to come again. It’s been oh so long since I’ve indulged in you, my darling. I deserve a treat.”

Gods, his voice is enthralling, his touch intoxicating. You have no recourse but to obey, to spread your thigh and grip his hair again as you ride his face. Hurtling quickly towards another wave of pleasure, you brace a hand on the rocks at your back. The rush of the river blends with the rush of your pulse in your ear.

“Close again, darling?” He teases, watching your face, his own shining with your slick and a hint of your blood. He barely parts for a moment to throw you that devastating fanged smirk.

“Yes! Fuck, more please!” you blabber, tearing up at the slightest loss of sensation. Your hand in his hair shoves his smug face with the most perfect cheekbones back into your cunt. Fingers and fangs and tongue and lips, that’s all your world reduces to. The sensation of him in your sex. It overwhelms you as your belly gets hot and your hips thrust on his face uncontrollably.

You burst, a flood of heat and pleasure that grips your core. Every muscle tightens as you bend off the rock. Desperate to feel your vampire feasting and suffocating as he suctions around your sex. Drinking from you in your favorite way…

“A-Astar—” you cry again, the lewd noises between your legs, the way your ass slides on the rocks, a wetter cacophony than the flow of the Chionthar.

Then you go limp, a boneless, bloody, cumdrunk mess on the rocks. It’s only after you catch your breath you feel his cool hands holding you steady so you don’t tumble. Pressing on your hip, he smiles down at you. Red eyes shining. Silver curls all mussed.

And those full lips turned in that wicked little smirk of his.

“See how lovely it is, darling,” he murmurs, voice still slick from going down on you. “My name cried from your lips… How fortunate to be here where no one need hear us.” That smirk twists absolutely feral, entirely wicked. “Will you manage a little swim? A little bathing to clean you since you’re so very dirty?”

You barely open your eyes, the stars and river hazy, and all you see is his handsome face. You wipe his messy lips. “Oh my love,” you huff, sated. “Please don’t wake me up. Just leave me here, dreaming…”

“About what?” He croons, leaning down to kiss you, to press his slick-covered mouth to yours. His tongue licks into your mouth to give you that taste of your tang, and a hint of your blood. “Is it… me, perhance?”

You just give him a secret smile. Resting. Dreaming by the river.

For @redisbetterr and @nyx-knox for inspiring and cheering the writing on and for @kowashites as a sprinting buddy! Three very lovely, very talented creators 🌹🩵♥️

[pursuitseternal]

“𝒢𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒟𝑜𝓌𝓃… 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇:” 𝒜𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝒸

Astarion x f!Reader | E | 2 K

🎨 by @rozelunar on BSKY Full image

Summary: Your vampire love suggests going down by the Chionthar after a hot summer day. You think it’s to cool off, only to realize how hot it’s about to become…

CW: p0rn without plot, semi public sex, oral fem receiving, overstimulation, dom!astarion if you squint, scent kink, possessive, hungry, sassy, feral Spawn Astarion

Ao3 link | series link | Masterlist

“Hells, you know I am not one to complain about the sun,” he says as you stroll down the bluffs of Rivington, watching your step, “but I will complain about the heat.”

Astarion guides you with expert grace down the sharp incline, all that roguish stealth and elvish grace coming in handy. His hand is cool in yours, a blessed relief from the heat of the day. Finally in sight of the Lower City, and tasks just seem to pile on at this point.

That’s where your lovely cheeky little pup of a Vampire suggested you seek a way to cool down. But given the tone he had used to do the suggesting, you suspect…

Well, maybe better not suspect. He had asked for space. Time. A chance not to be used for pleasure.

But even still, your nights were filled with cozy cuddles and bloodied feedings. Little ways you were each warming back up to sex being something more between you.

And that thought pounds in your head as he throws you that rakish smirk with the narrowed eyes as you finally reach the riverbank.

The Chionthar.

It rushes past you, briny water that gurgles and swells. The hint of spray that the wind carries from over its waters soothes you instantly. “Hells, this was a good idea…” You hum in delight, extending your arms up to let the spray cover as much of you as it can.

“Darling, I’m full of good ideas, just nobody asks me,” Astarion teases, coming up behind you. His scent surrounds you, his fragrance, but also that smell that is just him… Undead whiff or not, you crave it. It means he’s close to you, and you turn your head to bury your nose into the cool sweaty skin of his neck. “I suggested going down by the river, and you were wise enough to listen…” his lips press to the sensitive skin of your ear before he purrs, “…like the good girl you are for me.”

You feel something long and wet and cool lave up your pulse point. His tongue bathes your neck over those scars that have formed in your flesh. A sort of mark he’s made on you.

His claim to his favorite little treat.

“You know you smell delicious after working up this filthy sweat on your skin. All that running around and fighting,” he purrs under your ear, more tingles and shivers racing down your spine. The pleasure coils in your belly.

Slow. Careful. Not just about sex. You remind yourself as you tilt your head. “You don’t smell too bad yourself, you know. And here we are, only a night away from the Lower City… and your chance at freedom after that.” You reach around behind you, threading your fingers in his damp, bloodied, silver curls. “You’ll be your own Master after that’s done.”

He hums, tickled at the prospect. “A delicious thought but… not half so tempting as you are, right now, hmm?” You hear the hiss of his fangs baring a second before they pierce your neck, that ice and thrilling feeling making your head spin.

Not from blood loss. You’re used to it now. No, he seems forward tonight. Brazen.

Hungry.

And you squeeze your thighs together to feel his lips sucking your blood, to hear his loud and sloppy gulps as he feeds right under your ear. Just as you reach that edge of fuzzy warmth and blood loss, he pulls off you, a wet moan from his lips.

Normally, he’d let you go, release your body so he could hunt and seek the release he needed once your blood filled his undead body. His bloom of life. His hardened cock.

But tonight, as the stars start to come out, he actually pulls you closer. That bulge at your hip presses harder, his body shifting as he guides you toward the rocks along the river’s edge.

“Hmm, delicious as you were, I find myself still ravenous, darling,” he rasps in your ear. With all that predatory grace you see in battle, he slinks around you, caging you in. “And here you are, smelling like a feast…”

You gulp, the lump in your throat burning almost as much as your belly does now. A pleasant shiver down your spine as you have no place to run, and his tone… gods how you had missed it from before your conversation in the Shadowcursed Lands. He purrs for you, hunger weighting every syllable. That wiry, lean body of his pulls back just a moment, red eyes dilated and glinting in the moonlight. He peers down at you, licking his fang as he pulls his shirt off his pale body.

But that’s the only reprieve he grants you, hands at the back of your head to tilt you up for a kiss. Fangs and tongue consume you, and you lose your mortal breath and steady bearings.

Lost in that scent of citrus and rosemary and sweat.

His touch wanders to your dress, pulling the whole of it off your head. Another half a breath between you before he pulls your naked frame against you.

Burning you reach for him, hands gripping into those infernal scars on his back. “You sure… ‘bout this?” You have to ask, even as your body turns to putty in his hands, as you melt against the copse cold caress of his body.

“Darling, so close to freedom I can taste it…” he growls into your mouth before he slides you up on the rock and drops to his knees, face pressing above your mound, “but I must taste you first.”

Those skilled fingers push your thighs further apart. How many times had you watched them at work, picking a lock, wishing that lock was between your thighs. His nose presses in first, a sweet little pressure on your clit. You can feel his eyes on you, staring at you, boring a hole right through you… but it’s all you can do to lean back against the rock and roll your hips a little to encourage him.

Hot, so hot from the summer's day, it’s the cool kiss of his tongue through your drenched and searing seam that makes you cry out. And that noise from your throat as your thighs clamp around his perfect silver-curled head only makes him laugh.

That high pitched little giggle tickles your clit as his tongue flicks it mid-laughter. “Something the matter, darling?” He murmurs, voice muffled as he works you. His lips suckle around your clit, long, elegant fingers sliding into you with force, having to make enough room between your thighs just to reach.

Another breathy chuckle, and you feel the razor edge of his fang dragging on your outer lips. “I told you, we would go down by the river. Do not act so bashfully shocked.”

You whine, rolling your hips and letting out the debauched moan you've been keeping inside as you grind your clit on the tip of his nose. Your hand reaches for those messy silver curls, legs hooked behind his head as you pant. The rush of your blood in your ears is louder than the flow of the river, but all of that is nothing to the sounds of his tongue and lips that devour you.

Core pulsing, you feel the drag of his fingers on that bundle of nerves deep in your cunt. Your walls clench, squeezing his sinful digits inside you. Trapping them. The sensations in your cunt blind you. You buck and you grind. “I missed this… you. I missed the way I feel… close to you like this, fuck,” you whine. Your mouth slackens, the murmurs of your confession to your vampire pouring from you.

As if your slick isn’t the only thing he’s sucking forth from you, your true feelings teased out by his attentions.

You’re breathless as you stammer and sputter from the heart. “Safe… we are going to keep you safe, free you from Caza— ahhhh!”

Your voice breaks as he turns his head and clamps his fangs into your thigh.

“Don’t say his name while I’m feasting, darling.” He sucks your blood with a groan, licking his lips and staring at you with eyes that seem to glow vermillion in the starlight. “Scream mine, instead, my little treat.”

A deep giggle in his throat and he plunges his face back between your thighs, feasting indeed. He leaves not one bit of your sex untouched. Fingers knuckle deep, tongue laving up every drop of our cum. As he sucks your clit over and over again, you obey him, screaming his name to the heavens above.

“A good girl,” he purrs, your orgasm making your walls stick snug to his fingers, your thighs clamp to his head.

And just when you think he might pull away, just as you feel that orgasm turning to warmth and relaxation….

Your vampire gives that breathy high giggle, lips still sucking around your sex in an open-mouth kiss…

Then he gives a ruthless nip at your clit with those blunted front teeth.

“Fuck me, Astarion!” you scream again, fluttering hard in your core once more.

“Mmm, yes. A tongue fuck where you’re going to come again. It’s been oh so long since I’ve indulged in you, my darling. I deserve a treat.”

Gods, his voice is enthralling, his touch intoxicating. You have no recourse but to obey, to spread your thigh and grip his hair again as you ride his face. Hurtling quickly towards another wave of pleasure, you brace a hand on the rocks at your back. The rush of the river blends with the rush of your pulse in your ear.

“Close again, darling?” He teases, watching your face, his own shining with your slick and a hint of your blood. He barely parts for a moment to throw you that devastating fanged smirk.

“Yes! Fuck, more please!” you blabber, tearing up at the slightest loss of sensation. Your hand in his hair shoves his smug face with the most perfect cheekbones back into your cunt. Fingers and fangs and tongue and lips, that’s all your world reduces to. The sensation of him in your sex. It overwhelms you as your belly gets hot and your hips thrust on his face uncontrollably.

You burst, a flood of heat and pleasure that grips your core. Every muscle tightens as you bend off the rock. Desperate to feel your vampire feasting and suffocating as he suctions around your sex. Drinking from you in your favorite way…

“A-Astar—” you cry again, the lewd noises between your legs, the way your ass slides on the rocks, a wetter cacophony than the flow of the Chionthar.

Then you go limp, a boneless, bloody, cumdrunk mess on the rocks. It’s only after you catch your breath you feel his cool hands holding you steady so you don’t tumble. Pressing on your hip, he smiles down at you. Red eyes shining. Silver curls all mussed.

And those full lips turned in that wicked little smirk of his.

“See how lovely it is, darling,” he murmurs, voice still slick from going down on you. “My name cried from your lips… How fortunate to be here where no one need hear us.” That smirk twists absolutely feral, entirely wicked. “Will you manage a little swim? A little bathing to clean you since you’re so very dirty?”

You barely open your eyes, the stars and river hazy, and all you see is his handsome face. You wipe his messy lips. “Oh my love,” you huff, sated. “Please don’t wake me up. Just leave me here, dreaming…”

“About what?” He croons, leaning down to kiss you, to press his slick-covered mouth to yours. His tongue licks into your mouth to give you that taste of your tang, and a hint of your blood. “Is it… me, perhance?”

You just give him a secret smile. Resting. Dreaming by the river.

For @redisbetterr and @nyx-knox for inspiring and cheering the writing on and for @kowashites as a sprinting buddy! Three very lovely, very talented creators 🌹🩵♥️

[pursuitseternal]

Wip whenever 🫦

Thanks for the tag @roguishcat and @hellethil

I bring you some spice from a new Astarion x F!Reader one shot.

“Going Down… By the River”

Full fic here! On Ao3

Tag to share your WIPs ♥️ and celebrate your work!

@nyx-knox @marimosalad @lakefu @marlowethebard @kowashites @lostintheweave @thequietfaun @vixstarria @snowfolly @pinkberrytea @tragedybunny @bardic-inspo @scrapsovereign

[pursuitseternal]

“Ascended to Unprescedented Power”

Merelind x God Gale x Lord Astarion

🎨 by @tadpole-apocalypse

Merelind, Goddess of Blood 🩸

Gale, God of Ambition 🔮

Lord Astarion, Chosen of Blood and Ambition 🗡️

Behold my power throuple: BloodWeaveBound

In game canon lore… Merelind romances both of them, rejected Bhaal herself. What’s better than one man with unprecedented power? Two, of course. During the 6 months of Gale claiming divinity, Merelind becomes Astarion’s consort, unsure entirely if Gale will return. During the Epilogue, God Gale returns to grant her divinity… but only if he agrees to give Astarion the role of their chosen.

[pursuitseternal]

3 Things in common with your OC♥️🩵

Thanks for the tag @hellethil 🌹

Merelind Bloodhollow is my beautiful Durge High Elf OC. Her mismatched eyes and freckles are not like mine [nor is her gracefulness nor her skills with a blade sadly.]

But we do have a few things in common:

1. Musical talent🎻🎼— I chose the Bard class because I am also a musician. 30+ years on the violins, I would LOVE to use my instrument to cause psychic damage and not just by playing out of tune!

2. Snark / sarcasm / quick wit🗡️— I always choose the most sarcastic dialogue. (Totally got us killed by Vlakith once, oops). I also like to banter and am known for my snark. It has so gotten me into and out of many a sticky situation, just like Merelind.

3. Oral fixation 🫦💋— Merelind partners with Gale (that practiced tongue, you see) and Astarion (all those nightly feedings and Bloodless mornings). She loves to use her mouth for pleasure and receive it especially. Cannot blame her. Just living out my fantasy fantasies here.

Tagging for your OCs: @nyx-knox (either or both!) @redisbetterr @kowashites @keekie @lostintheweave @marlowethebard @thequietfaun @astarfruity @vixstarria @tragedybunny @snowfolly @mj-bites @bardic-inspo (sorry for any repeats!)

[pursuitseternal]

Snippet Sunday 🔮

Thank you @roguishcat for the tag earlier this week♥️🩵

A little something that will become Semi public, keep quiet or we’ll get caught smut in Sorcerous Sundries

Tagging: @nyx-knox @lostintheweave @thequietfaun @astarfruity @skelvron-keiman @nenalunes @tragedybunny @snowfolly @vixstarria @pinkberrytea @scrapsovereign @kowashites

[pursuitseternal]

OC Wardrobe 🌹 Merelind

Thank you @roguishcat ♥️🩵

Merelind loves to wear pale blues especially for armor. You’ll find her either dressed like a medieval princess or a the Bhaalspawn assassin chosen she is. She’s a princess… but she can also stab you.

I’ve actually had art done for her in a few of these dresses! They’re some of my favorites.

Tagging: @nyx-knox (for Maeve) @marimosalad @redisbetterr @kowashites @scrapsovereign @lostintheweave @thequietfaun @astarfruity @nenalunes @charmandabear @snowfolly

🎨 by @snowfolly @nenalunes @deannamb

[pursuitseternal]

“𝓐 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓐𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽:” 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 8

Lord Astarion x Lumina (Bride) | E | 2.6 K

Summary: Running away from the Crimson Palace, Lumina seeks to exact the same revenge against her abuser that her Lord once relished. Dagger in hand, she confronts her past, but her Lord is not far behind.

CW: Blood, violence, gore, minor character death, hurt / comfort, catharsis

🎨 by @nyx-knox (also my beta and cheerleader)

Fic Index | ao3 link | Masterlist

Blinding rage. Suspicion. He couldn’t bear it, bursting into a black mist and flying towards the ballroom. Astarion hurtled right for Morana, perched in the corner of the room, smirking and waiting.

In a burst of power, he materialized, towering over her. Threatening. Not touching. “Where is she?” He snarled, quiet and pressed.

But the tiefling just shook her head, innocence falsely shining in her crimson eyes.

“Where… IS… she?” came the rumbling echo, his hands fisting at his side as he towered over his creation.

“Oh? Oh, your precious bride and consort? Your sweet new thing, so eager and loyal to you?” Her deep musical voice trilled low in her chest as her tail flicked lazily behind her. She met his look of ire with confidence. “She left.”

“WHAT?” He snapped the single word deep in his throat.

Morana leered, a slow smile that peeled over her lips, she showed no fear at the outburst. She was past numb to his anger by now. “Aww, what’s wrong? Feeling… oh what is the sentiment… oh yes. Betrayed?”

Her laughter was cold. Heartless. Her red irises in her black fleshed eyes met his gaze without a shred of feeling. “Good. At least someone taught you that feeling again.”

“I don’t have to take this from you… you, ingrate,” he snarled, voice cutting and scratching in his throat. “After all I’ve done for you, you especially, Morana, you can’t let me find happiness?”

“That’s what you think she gives you? Happiness?” Crestfallen, her angular face softened as her voice grew small. “But, what of…” she stopped herself, moment of weakness ended and her vulnerability ceased. Her shoulders drew up ramrod straight. “Good luck, my Lord, literally chasing your happiness.”

She grabbed the skirts of her gown and turned, only to feel a warm hand vice grip around her wrist. “Careful, Morana. You have many good things here as my spawn I was never afforded, as you should well know by now… with all that has passed between us. I’ve done what I’ve done for you because I care. I am a good Master.”

“You care… you do not love,” she spat, yanking her hand from his hold. “You create with your blood, touch with your hands, fuck with your cock… but you do not love with your heart,” she scoffed, eyes narrowing and hands fisted and shaking at her side.

Then, she bit her lip and picked up her skirts, dipping a sloppy curtsy. “Good night my Lord. I better retire before the sun rises, lest I burn in the light.” Her voice sliced through the din of the ballroom, her head held high, horns visible far above the crowd as she left him there, fuming.

Astarion watched her go, the pull between staying and going, the inner war it was between the responsibility of care and the show of power… For the first time in two centuries, he thought to himself, chastised himself, for being hasty in making spawn. Shaking his head, his long silver hair falling over his shoulders, he looked down at his feet. He could almost hear them now, his old companions…

“I question the wisdom of that decision, but so be it,” the Wizard would say.

“Nature’s ways are patient. Like the grinding down of stone by a trickle of water. Do not rush things.” That was the Druid.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Karlach, oh sweet, poor Karlach would have shouted then slapped him between the shoulder blades just for good measure.

Astarion’s dexterous fingers now ran in his hair, pulling it off his face. He had to find her first, then, he’d find a way to make amends. He would be better than… than his own Master had ever been to him. He couldn’t even think of the name again.

But first things first, his Bride would come home.

Lumina crouched in the shadows of the Lower City, her nerves on fire, muscles tensing, a predator now as a vampire. She watched him lumbering around the storage room. Drunk as always. He was always drunk after sundown. Sometimes before it.

Master Tanner, quick to tan her hide, he had been. Quick to pass her off for… for other skills. Skulking now in the shadows on the terrace above, across from the storeroom window, she could vividly summon those visions of the last time she was in that room. Gripped by the arm, tossed before another pair of fine leather shoes, embroidered and polished. Only this time it had been barely any words before a pair of fangs bit her neck and her world went dark…

“Mine…”

And hells, for eternity she was his, the Ascendant’s. And he… Lumina sighed as she watched the movement of shadows within that dim window… Lord Astarion was hers.

Now she just needed to be worthy of that love.

To be like him, a hero who shrugged off the bonds of his horrid master. She’d wipe her past clean. No more urchin but a lady… no more rags but gowns…. And no more burlap sacks but silk for a bed.

She had the bed of the Ascendant. And more than that, she had his love. His Bride. Her Master.

And she’d make him proud.

She watched the lantern flicker out, the darkness inside deepening as she stood and shook out her limbs. Backing up slightly, she took a running start, leaping across the alleyway to land in the sill of the open window. A deep breath, fangs bared, and Lumina could tell exactly where Tanner was.

Drunk at his desk. The usual. Gratified to see things hadn’t changed. It worked to her benefit. She patted the coil of rope at her hip, fingers shaking with excitement at the thrill it would be to bind him and keep him at her mercy until he woke up and faced her sober.

How she’d make him pay then. She could taste it. It consumed her thoughts. So focused on the vengeance to come, she could barely sense the prying at the back of her mind, the tug inside her soul. “Astarion, no,” she cursed, pushing him to the side to keep him at bay.

Not now, not when she was so close, she could taste it. Vengeance never seemed so sweet.

Her feet padded noiselessly in the dark. She had to do this, had to feel free and empowered by her own choices, not those gifted to her at the pretty pale hands of a Vampire Lord. The hilt of her dagger pressed into her palm, and she was ready with one hand on the door handle to throw it open. To reveal herself to Tanner. To declare herself free and the sink blade into his fat, sweaty neck.

Another tug at her mind, hard and insistent.

And wrathful. Her name in his silken purr inside her mind. “Lumina… where are you?”

Fuck.

She flexed her fingers, resting them on the smoothed wood handle… Nothing. It didn’t budge. Only in her confusion did she finally look up to see a pudgy hand pressing it shut, a hand connected to that ugly face of her old master.

“Tanner,” she snarled, leaping to her feet with preternatural speed.

“The little light of a whore? Back for more?” His slurring voice was thick in his throat. Must have hit the bottle a little more and a little longer to keep him behind his usual routine.

Fucking great.

Lumina bolted to her feet, still too short to be as menacing as she felt, but baring her fangs and hissing made his watery, bleary eyes widen in fear.

She liked that. A lot.

“I’m here to end you. I’m here to make you pay for the way you used me, sold me, whittled me down to next to nothing.” Her voice was quiet and strained, speaking slowly to make sure he got a good look at her glistening fangs as she spoke. “My only last debate is whether to use these….” She hissed again before she pulled out her pretty glittering dagger, “or this.”

The blade caught the light. So lightweight and elegant. The weapon of retribution. Lifting it above her head, she felt a stab in her side. A dagger, a twisted and ugly blade, thin as a needle, pulled back from her side. Covered in her own blood.

“Gotcha,” he slurred, a dark and arrogant sneer on his fat, sweaty face.

Some toxin instantly numbed her body… a creeping, crawling feeling that froze her muscles. The magic of whatever paralyzing agent that coated it worked its way quickly through her undead body.

Lumina struggled to fight it, hissing at him until even her mouth fell silent.

“My my, now. This was unexpected. I’m surprised you even gave comin’ back a second thought, girl.” Her old master leaned in, alcohol on his breath. A large, moist hand ran down her arm. “Cold as death, you always were a frigid bitch to me.”

Lumina fought for control, to wiggle a finger, to snap her fangs, anything so she could fight back against the paralysis. But all she could do was stare unblinking as that tormenter drew closer, another hand on her other arm now.

One single thought filled her. One name. One face. One love.

“Astarion…”

“Fret not, my darling. You’re too cute to die.” That voice sounded inside her head, only to have his scent, his presence swallow her whole as the Ascendant stepped into the room silently. A wicked grin on his face, his hair was drawn back to show his gaunt face, to keep his lines of sight clear so he could creep silently up behind Tanner. Those eyes glowed crimson in the light, and all she could do was cry. Unblinking, tears of relief and fear and love and guilt rolled down her cheeks, paralyzed as she was.

The sound of metal sinking into flesh sounding right beside her, a strange, twisted dagger now sticking out from Tanner’s hand.

“No one touches what is mine, you… worm,” that familiar, silken voice snarled, a look of abject fear darkening Tanner's face as he yelled in pain.

As his massive body was ripped away from Lumina, from where she stood frozen.

“Fuck you, you monster!” his voice slick with drink, slurred with a heady mix of terror and anger. His balding head slammed against the floor with a clunk.

But Astarion never looked so…powerful. So fearsome and deadly. Divine. He was surely blessed with that hellish strength. His eyes aglow, his hand coated in a little burst of blood, Astarion, her Lord and Master moved so slowly.

Gracefully.

Like the predator he was.

“A monster to be sure, but there are no other monsters like me,” he purred, planting a booted foot in the middle of Tanner’s heaving chest. “No one, no one crosses me, and no one touches my Bride.”

Those silken syllables roar now, his fangs bared down at the stinking mortal, long and muscular body arched so prettily and menacingly.

“M-Master…” Lumina managed to move her mouth, the paralysis easing a little. “Let me… please…” The fear he would take her vengeance made her heart burn in her chest.

Red eyes looked her way, instantly softening from murderous to adoring. “Of course, my treasure…” he replied, fiddling the point of that strange dagger under his nails, drawing up and throwing her that perfect, rakish smile. “But not before I lay him out as a feast for your revenge.”

He pulls more daggers from his hip, grabbing Tanner’s arms and forcing them above his head. Two wet slices and Astarion stabbed two blades clean through both his hands.

Red eyes, blood on his face, her Lord crossed to her, tearing into his wrist with his fangs. The scent of blood hit her nose and made her stilled lips tremble with hunger. Without another sound, Astarion pressed his bleeding wrist to her mouth, instantly chasing the paralysis from her body. Gulp after gulp, she fed quickly and messily.

Sweeter than anything, she devoured him, letting his power fill her belly and race through her veins. Addicting, thrilling… how she could not have recognized his taste when he first had gifted her his essence, she could almost laugh at it now. The taste of her Sire. Of her Master and Maker. Sweeter than the ambrosia of Elysium and more potent than any potion for sale at Sorcerers’ Sundries.

She purred, melting into his body, his scent and heat and power drawing her in. Almost making her forget her revenge. Almost making her forget her disobedience in leaving his side. Her deception to escape the palace and prove her own power, nearly forgotten… perhaps even forgives.

Until his hand closed around her throat, squeezing it tight to push her from his neck, from where crimson ran hot and bountiful down his ivory skin. “Tsk. My naughty Bride.” He purred against her ear, warm face pressed into her marked neck. A cool hilt pressed into her palm, that twisted dagger. That strange dagger she had never seen before. It hummed with a strange power, the same kind that radiated from his own body.

Especially in moments like now, as his eyes glowed and his wiry frame radiated dark, hellish power.

“There now,” lips and fangs and dulcet tones caressed her ear. “Finish what you started so I can punish you for it all the quicker,” he purred just for her, the warm pad of his tongue darting out to taste the sweat that ran cold down her neck. “Come now, pet. Don’t keep us waiting…”

The dagger in her hand, she looked at her quarry. Her captor and jailer. Pinned now like an offering for her blade. The man who sold her off like chattel only for her to find belonging, passion… a home.

She turned briefly to look at Astarion, his blood still streaked on her chin. So many tendays ago, even as she had awoken in a gilded cage, she had never tasted freedom until now. Nor love. “Yes, Master,” she replied with a trembling voice, holding the blade up.

It was so easy, taking his pathetic life. The quick work of that twisted blade, the way it seemed to hum with each strike into his body. Lumina knew not how long it was before she stood covered in blood and panting and.. crying. When did she start to cry, she wondered. Tears ran down her face, warm from her feeding, bitter with the achievement she attained.

Justice. Revenge. Her captor dead by her hand.

She dropped his dagger only a second before she too dropped to her knees.

But her body never hit the ground. Two arms caught her, cradling her into his chest as they crouched on the bloody ground. “Shhh, it’s alright my love. He’s gone,” Astarion murmured, petting her blood-streaked hair as she wept into the fine silk of his jacket. “I’ve got you, my Little Light.”

There was only him, his scent and warmth in the cloud of her mind. Where she was or how she felt had fled far beyond her grasp of reality. By the time she came back to her surroundings, she could no longer taste the foul tang of his coppery blood in the air.

No, in fact she was outside, walking down the streets of the Lower City under the watch of veiled stars.

Suddenly she felt the stones give way to grass, the crowds around them melt to emptiness as they entered under the wrought iron gate into…

“The cemetery?” Lumina looked up at Astarion with big wide eyes, swollen and aching. Her hands clung into the fine stitching of his jacket, and his hand on her hip only pulled her closer. “Why did you bring me here, Master?”

That rakish smile turns his lips. “To see some graves. Tsk. Really, darling. I’ll excuse your inane little question given the massive victory you just attained…” He paused, pulling her more flush to his side, their hips brushing in counterpoint as they walked. “And given the cathartic stupor that I’m so glad youve come out of, now.”

His warm lips pressed into the top of her blonde hair. A deep breath in, smelling her… that’s what he was doing as they managed their way up some steps beside a grand mausoleum. Lumina expected to enter it, not knowing what her master intended…

But it was surely capricious, his plan. Just like him. Always surprising, always mercurial. Not as he drew to a halt beside a collection of headstones. The names that stared back rose right from the pages of that journal she was not supposed to find.

Dekarios… Cliffgate… Silverbough… Ravenguard… Shadowheart…

Lumina swallowed down the burning lump in her throat as she glanced at the oldest one, offset to the left, the one he drew her closer to…

The carved letters were so faded, weathered over four centuries. But the surname, that she could still read.

Ancunín.

[pursuitseternal]

🧜‍♀️𝔹𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕒 ℂ𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖:

🧜‍♀️ℙ𝕚𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝔸𝕌 𝔾𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝔽𝕚𝕔

Gale x Merelind (f!OC) | M | 6.7 K

Summary: Disgraced, rejected by his Queen and his former lover, Gale Dekarios hunts the seas as a pirate. But the greater shame is the Orb in his chest that rots him from the inside out. A year of searching, and his ship nears the rumored site of the Netherstones, the key to the Crown of Karsus. The object that will break his Netherese Curse. All that lies between him and the treasures of his redemption are waters infested by monsters… Those murderous, urgeful, beguiling creatures. Sirens. When one spares his life, they make an arrangement that might see them both freed. Or dead.

CW: slow burn (by P’s standards), Pirate AU, POTC influences, Gale fall first, but he also falls hard, Siren OC, DnD/POTC magic rules, flustered Gale, romantic Gale, forbidden love, Gale’s curse is rotting his body, Siren OC is Durge inspired.

Ao3 Link | Bg3 Masterlist

Nothing but jolly bright blue waters extended in every direction, the sun beating and the winds stiff from the north. His ship bobbed over the waves as if they were nothing, the worn canvas of her sails luffing only when his ship, the Tara, out ran the waves with her speed.

And her Captain stood at the rail, watching life on desk unfold under his keen, dark eyes.

How many months had it been, Captain Gale Dekarios knew not. Too many. Too long to stay festering at sea, his once noble crew turned motley.

His once noble profession of privateering, now branded as … ugh… piracy.

He hated the word. Left a sour taste in his mouth, almost more than the way his infection brought the taste of his own blood to his tongue.

This… curse… slowly eating at him from the inside out.

His fingers pressed to his chest, rubbing the site of his growing mark, the tendrils of its influence extending tirelessly over the months. He couldn’t hide it anymore with tattoos on his shoulder and neck. The lines of his infection's power reached his eye, making it milky, making him hide it under an eyepatch even as it worked just fine.

Such was his vanity. A sin almost as great as his ambition.

Gale folded his arms over his chest, the crushed purple wool of his long coat damp with spray. At least the Tara was making good time to Bhaal’s Cove. At least he might be within reach of a cure to his disease.

His folly. Gale’s folly, one might call it. For that’s what it was to love a queen, to serve her at sea and in her bed, and then to lose that love over something so stupid. He sighed to think of that time, treasured in court as her Fleet Captain, her chosen, most adored Privateer. But his romantic heart had wanted more.

And so, he had plundered the seas for the most forbidden of treasures. Damn it if they had been rumored to be cursed. Karsus’ treasure was supposedly worth it.

Supposedly. If only as he had settled for diadems or roses… but no. Gale Dekarios was a man of grand gestures. In this regard as well.

His mind grew foggy. His hand rubbed at the Orb in his chest, the pain flaring at the memory. He recalled how he had taken that locked chest with the Orb inside, only to have its claws and magic gnaw its way into his chest, making this mark and—

“Captain Dekarios! Land Ho, Captain Dekarios!” twittered an excited if maternal voice. The woosh of the Tressym’s wings blew the long dark hair off his shoulder before four paws landed smartly on its spans. Tara, the namesake of his vessel, self-appointed First and Second Mate, purred softly in excitement for her master before cleaning her patchwork of brown fur, her little pink tongue lapping the way the salt air made her fur stick. Then her paw worked to fix his tendrils of little braids and beads that held his hair back, batting the little top knot to get his attention. “Captain. You are unusually silent.”

“Perhaps this ballet of waves and wind has inspired… introspection,” he muttered, turning to squint up at her with his one good eye, fingers returning to the center of his chest to rub out the pain.

The Tressym knew better. “It’s the Orb again, isn’t it? It needs tending?” Tara sighed. Her feline head nuzzled against Gale’s temple, even as shouts of excitement passed around the crew as land, indeed, came slowly into sight. “Perhaps what lies ahead for us in the Cove will stop its pain, its hunger. Tsk.” She sucked her little feline teeth. “About time that blasted Orb found something other than your precious heart to sink its fangs into. Especially after Mystra…”

“Enough, Tara,” Gale chided. A bit peevish but none too harshly. “I deserve this fate for what I’ve done. But it won’t stop me from seeking this curse’s cure. Even if it’s just my own dea—”

“Pish posh, Captain,” now it was Tara’s turn to chide, digging her claws into the fading purple wool over his shoulder. “Not on my watch, Gale.”

Gale rolled his eyes, grateful for the excited shouts on the deck below as an excuse to reach for his spyglass and examine the virgin shore before them. Bhaal’s Cove. The shoreline was black with rock and white with sand. Scanning the geography, he spied the outcropping of legend. A strange circle of tear drop rocks on the cliff face. “There!” He called back to the helm behind him. “Bosun Ancunìn, make for that point, three points to larbord!”

The silver haired elf gave some half sarcastic means of acknowledgment, and with a roll of his crimson eyes, he adjusted course.

“Take caution, Astarion. The legends say all sorts of murderous creatures lurk in these waters. We shall be extra vigilante,” Gale turned, locking eyes with his current helmsman, a smile on his face.

A smile returned with yet another roll of those eyes. “Here’s hoping your blathering on about the mating rituals of Gnolls might bore them all away…”

“Ah, good one Fangs!” Karlach chimed back, clapping the elf on the shoulder hard before setting her cherry red hands to the mainbrace to ease the rope. As usual, a smile was permanently fixed on the Tiefling, a flicker of mirthful fire in her face and demeanor. “Maybe we will get to see something amazing! Like a selkie or a kraken!”

Gale only chuckled, knowing that her enthusiasm was only out of zest for life and an ignorance for just how fearsome said creatures were. “Not on my life, Cliffgate. Best we keep far away from mon… sters…”

For once, Captain Dekarios fell silent, head snapping back to the shoreline.

“Fucking finally,” Astarion snipped, “you know Gale, your rather pleasant when you’re…”

And the Pale Elf fell silent too, handsome face blank of its usual mischief as he also looked to the isle.

A thin melody floated on the wind. A voice.

“Oh, oh no.” Tara murmured, trying her best to flap in Gale’s face. But the lad was enamored.

Her wings beat harder, flying towards the elf at the helm, but those dexterous pale hands already had changed course. Far more dramatically than the captain’s orders, the ship was headed right for the sand. “Snap out of it!” She shouted at that angular face, hoping to knock some sense into any of them.

But the music only grew louder and louder. That female voice wrapped around them, the air itself vibrating with her haunting tune. Sad. Longing. And composed to never quite end.

Tara knew it for what it was. A monster to be sure.

A Siren.

She flew back to Gale’s shoulder, bapping her paw in his face even as he reached for the rail and leaned out over it. “Wake up, Gale! Snap out of this, I order you!”

Nothing.

Not even a blink from his one, undefiled brown eye.

To her immense dismay, all his companions and crew lined the rails, the ship's wheel left to spin and spin with loud wooden clicks. Sails flapped loudly as, but all of it was nothing to the way the music only crescendoed. A swell of this Siren song, and suddenly the whole vessel lurched.

Run aground, the whole crew spilled into the sea, knocked head over heels into the drink. Tara flapped wildly, shouting for Gale above the wooden groans of the ship. “Captain! Captain!”

She whizzed over the shallow waters, watching as the crew sputtered to the beach, some swimming, some dragging others. But there was no dark haired, eye-patched privateer to speak of.

Gale barely noticed falling overboard, nor the slap of chilling waters, nor the way his lungs burned as he swam.

There was only that song. And only silence and the echoing gasp of his own breath as he broke above the water. A sea cave, wet and swirling as the tide was coming in. The rocks were jagged and wet, and the spray and rush of incoming tide pounded the cave walls. Gale swam to a ledge, drawn by a sliver of light.

He needed to get his bearings. His eye patch was gone to the tides, as was his jacket. Only his thin cream linen shirt and breeches now covered his tanned and tattooed body.

A matter to fix once he escaped this death trap. His eyes scanned the cave as he treaded water in the rushing waves.

An opening, thank the gods. He swam for it only to find it was too small for his whole body..

Stay too long here and die, he thought. At least he’d be rid of this blasted curse. Gale almost resigned himself to his fate, to just let go and let the curse win.

But then he heard it again, that voice. She was close, just on the other side of the opening.

That lyrical flutter of her music drew him toward the opening, a crack in the wall large enough for him to reach an arm. “Um, hello? A hand? Anyone?” He knew it was silly, maybe futile, even as the wet rocks at his feet barely held him up, even as the water kept rushing in.

He waved his hand, reaching as he tried to slide further to freedom. Then he felt something wet. Something, someone, slapped his hand, followed by a cool breath… sniffing it? Gale cringed, praying whatever it was didn’t bite it off or something strange.

A little trill of music, and Gale knew who his potential savior was.

“Please, please powerful Siren,” he begged, just knowing he wanted to get free. Damn it to the depths if he would die disgraced. “I need help, and I’ll… give you anything you want. Just get me out of this blasted hole.”

First there was silence, then a purr… and then a wet hand gripped his. Gale fought the instinct to pull away, an instinct that was soon abated as she started singing again. Haunting and sad, that’s what it sounded like, this… Siren. Her song made the rocks crumble around him, widening the crack as she pulled.

But the longer she sang, the more Gale felt on fire. Enthralled. Like he could listen to this voice, this melody until his dying day.

A romantic notion, to be sure. One that was suddenly and swiftly ended as the opening split wide and Captain Dekarios went sailing through the air to land back in the open sea. The splash of his body back in the water almost rendered him senseless, but he was aware enough to feel two hands grip under his arms and drag him to the surface.

Barely conscious, lungs burning from seawater, Gale felt his vision darken. All that just to die on the beach, he grieved.

A final slight to his pride. Fitting.

He gave one last ragged breath he was sure was his last before something pressed against his mouth.

Cold and wet. Her again. Forcing his eyes open, her face consumed his whole vision.

Kissing him. She was… kissing him. Gale blushed, suddenly feeling the rush of Healing Magics filling his body, lungs clearing and pulse steadying. His eyes slid shut, mouth trembling to feel the way she pressed her lips firmly. To taste the sea salt on her kiss as even her cold lips set something burning inside him.

Magic. Had to be. Surely. But even still, he wondered how his hand found its way to the back of her head, fingers nestled in the wet strands of her sandy blonde hair. But as he felt her part her lips the smallest crack, he pulled back.

An awkward grunt as he cleared his throat, he let go of her completely. “Apologies, I’m usually better at this… introductions and that sort of…”

His voice trailed off as he looked at her. Really looked at her. The long tail of her hair hung over her shoulder, pulled haphazardly by the sea and his fingers. Pretty, to be sure. But it was her face that held his attention. That left him speechless.

Two-toned eyes stared at him. Wet and inquisitive and intense. One red like blood, the blood she should have spilt as a Siren. One clear and shining and blue as the sea itself. Rimmed in dark lids, they didn’t blink but once as he gaped at her.

Her tanned, sun-kissed skin was dotted every which way in freckles.

But the longer he gawked at her, the wider her berry lips turned in a smile.

And she started to trill and purr as his eyes drifted down to her bared breasts and her curled pale blue tail, its scales shimmering an incandescent rosy hue in the sun. Gale couldn’t help the blush on his cheeks as he took her in, ignoring the fact it was the first body he’d seen naked since his beloved Queen back home.

“I’m… I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” he murmured, soft and steady, hoping not to spook her away.

The Siren only fanned her wide finned tail on the surface of the waves that swept over the beach. A little hum of a small musical scale and she gave him a sharp-toothed smile. A bit predacious, perhaps, Gale thought, but thrilling and beguiling none the less.

Gale was undeterred, he needed to know more about this creature. His curiosity far outweighed self-preservation. “Can you understand me? Can you speak?”

The Siren nodded once, Gale thought, before tilting her head.

“Will you allow me the pleasure of knowing what you are called? After all, you saved my life and… I did promise you something in return.”

The Siren’s lips pressed tightly, she sang her wordless song once more. Gods, his eyes pricked with tears now to hear it, so very haunting and mystical. A single palm lifted, she unfurled her glass hand, revealing a single red rose bud. Her song continued, the rose opening its petals slowly, sea spray clinging to the velvety bloom.

A rose and her song. Those were her answer.

“Rose? Is that your name?” Gale chimed excited, a bit shocked as the Siren extended her hand for him, flower in her fingers for him to pluck.

She shook her head, however.

“Not Rose then… can’t you just tell me?” He furrowed his brow, desperate to learn more.

But she only wiggled her pointed ears a little, laughing loudly, clearly enjoying their little guessing game.

Her lithe body leaned back in her mirth, and his eyes drifted down to her breasts again, now noticing a shining stone pendant between them. Three points of red and pink and purple, three stones held into one triangular gem.

And the moment his eyes fell on it, Gale’s chest throbbed. “Hells,” he groaned, the lines of the Orb lighting up people under his damp white linen shirt and flaring up the side of his neck. “Where, Rose… err not Rose… where did you find this?” He snapped, voice strained in pain and hunger. “The Netherstones are just what I seek.”

He bent forward, crying out in agony, lifting his head to keep his eyes trained on her and that treasure. “Please…” Arm shaking, he reached for the stones.

But the Siren darted out of reach, afraid perhaps. Or sadistic. Even as the pain of his Orb flared, as his vision darkened, and as his body laid out on the sand now… he heard her splashing back into the sea.

The pain too great, his eyes closed as he passed out on the shore.

And he could swear he heard her laughing his name from her lips, trilled and sing-song as she bid him, “Farewell, Gale…”

Something wet and… furry smacked him in the face, and Captain Gale shot upright. “Bloody hells… Tara!” He groaned, covering his disfigured eye with his hand, even as bodies knelt in the sand beside him. Two pale hands grabbed under his waterlogged arms and dragged him further from the waveline. Astarion, Gale looked up to see that smug smirk in the dying light.

“Where is she?” he managed to say, turning to scan the waters for anything breaking the surface. “The Siren, where is she? She has the Netherstones, the treasure we came to this wretched isle to find.”

A pale face screwed in a taunting smirk of ire leaned into his vision. “Oh… oh good. And here I was worried when we found you unconscious on the beach, we should be worried you lost your mind.” Astarion scoffed, feigning to wipe his brow. “Shows me.”

“Mr. Ancunín. Lay off it and help me get him up.” Tara flapped to rest on her favorite perch of Gale’s shoulder once he was sitting up. “The Siren? You saw her then and she let you live?”

“She saved me, actually.” The Captain replied, looking at them all with his own mismatched eyes. One dark, one white. Not unlike the pair that had greeted him when he had awoken the first time on the beach.

He pressed his lips together, as if he could still taste her lips, sweet and salty. Her kiss. Well… no. Her transfer of some sort of bardic healing magic, he suspected. Not that specifics mattered when she tasted so… good. Gale shook his head to return his thoughts to the present.

“She’s remarkable. I’m almost convinced she can not only understand Common but… I think I heard her speak it.”

His name.

“C-Common, I mean…” his tanned cheeks grew hot, and dammit all to the hells, his Orb faintly flashed.

“Tsk. Gale. I saw that purple glow. Was your mermaid pretty?” The pale elf teased again, giving his captain his dry jacket, helping him to dry off in the setting sun.

Gale held up a single finger, pedantic and authoritative. “Actually, she’s a Siren. Not a mermaid. I’m sure Rose… err, not-Rose wouldn’t appreciate being confused for a lowly mermaid.”

Astarion arched a brow. “Rose?” he gave a biting giggle. “You asked her for a name? My my, so chivalrous.” His face screwed into a devilish look, red eyes glinting with humor. “Bet you got a good look at her. Your Rose. What’s she like?”

Gale fought the urge to tense up, to give a sigh and look wistfully at the sea whence she disappeared. “One eye blue like the sea, the other red like precious rubies… her skin perfectly freckled all over,” he cleared his throat as if he wasn’t also imagining the way even her breasts were bespotted. “A-and her ears were pointed not unlike yours, Astarion. And she must have powerful magic.”

He looked to the high cliff face, the opening still visible from whence he had burst forth. “I washed up in that sea cave, and she pulled me out by opening it wider with her song. And then, she conjured a perfect red rose when I asked her for a name…”

Sighing, he could almost ignore the incredulous looks he was getting from his Tressym and the elf.

It was finally the pragmatic feline that thrust her face in Gale's line of sight. “Pardon me as I interrupt your interspecie reverie, Captain, but did you say she had the… Netherstones? As in the ones we need to unlock the greatest treasure of Karsus’ treasure?”

Her voice was a bit on the shrill side, but chipper from encouragement. So close, or at least one step closer to their cure.

“Indeed,” Gale groaned, bringing himself to his feet with just a little help from his Bosun. “So I have to find her again, the Siren.”

A firm pat on the back, dexterous hands brushing the sand and seaweed off Gale’s shoulders, and Astarion led him back down the beach. “Well, all things considered, you’re lucky you survived one encounter with the monster. Can’t say as much for the ship. She’s run aground something fierce.” A sarcastic giggle punctuated Astarion’s snide if true comments. “Gives you plenty of time to seek your siren out for another near-death experience and to get your Netherstones.

He’d never admit it, but his red eyes scanned his friend, his captain’s face nervously. The lines of the Orb had extended so quickly lately, his companion stood on a precipice over imminent death… blasted curse. His concern for the better of him as he put a hand on Gale’s back between his shoulders. “We will find it, if it’s what can break your curse and bring the Orb under control once and for all…”

Gale’s milky eye opened wide at him, turning to give the elf a look of appreciation and a little bit of shock. “That is surprisingly kind of you, Mr. Ancunín.”

“Yeah well… don’t get used to it. We thought you dead,” his tone returned to sharp and snide, his hand pulling away as if he was disgusted by the intimate moment. “It was your cat that insisted we search the beach this way… current and rip tides something, something.”

They trudged in the gathering dark towards a distant light. The signs of a makeshift camp around a roaring massive bonfire on the beach was a sight for sore eyes, and Gale smiled.

Until his gaze settled on the Tara, his ship not too far off the beach, her hull snug in the sand, unmoving and trapped.

Just like they were.

Trapped, but safe. As if willed to be here, guided by a providential hand, perhaps.

His crew were half-tucked into bedrolls, the other half were three sheets to the wind to toast their survival. Not one soul lost.

All present and accounted for… save now being short what was probably several bottles of Ashkaban Rum.

Ever the dutiful captain, Gale made his rounds, making sure everyone saw him home and hale from his near-drowning.

It wasn’t the fear that kept plaguing his mind. No, no it was his saviour. Those mismatched eyes, he could swear he caught them from the corner of his eyes from the shoreline, from behind the crates of Plum Fizz… even from the clusters of palm trees on the beach.

Little glowing flashes of red or blue.

And then the night settled. Everyone laid wrapped snug in their bedrolls.

But not Gale.

Even if it wasn’t for the way the Siren had already beguiled him, the Orb in his chest ached too much to let him sleep. So close to the Netherstones, the ball of Arcane Hunger in his chest burned too great to grant him any reprieve.

Not to mention the low hum of laughter he could swear carried from the sea the moment he tried to close his eyes. He would really have to do some research on Siren biology: how far away could they see? How far could their magical voice extend? Could their eyes glow? Was their kiss potent enough to bewitch a man?

He turned face down in the leather of his bedroll, if only to muffled the groan… part from the ache in his chest and part from this equally cursed ache in… other places. He knew legends of Sirens walking among men, shedding their tails for a tenday to live as the mortals do.

To love as the mortals do…

He gripped into the leather, hips rolling a little against the warm sand beneath the bedding. Gale sat up, ignoring the burning in his chest and loins. He had to cool this pain, had to sate the hunger before the curse advanced further. He blinked, spying the jolly boat beached in the surf. Just a little jaunt over the very chilling sea water. Yes. That should set him aright for tonight.

Trudging through sand, he swore he could hear a voice on the breeze. But every time he lifted his head and looked, it would fade.

Beguiling Siren.

Hands on the hull, Gale shoved the boat into the sea, the waters unnaturally calm. The winds long abated. As if they had been stilled.

More magic? Gale knew not, only that burning that drove him to get on the water.

Oars in hand, he rowed, a patch of moonlight on the dark waters was his destination.

Sirens love moonlight…

Inwardly, he told himself to stuff it, that this was to cool the hunger his Orb had flaring…

But his heart still skipped a beat when some dark shape swam his way in the very moonlit waters he traversed.

“Gale of Waterdeep…” that voice he knew so well after a day bubbled from the surface just off his port side. “I was wondering when you’d answer your Siren’s call.”

His lips opened to reply before his mind could advise against it. “‘Tis I, precious rose,” he bowed his head, always a gentleman, even to this creature of the sea.

Her red and blue eyes caught the moonlight, giving that otherworldly glow. Her pointy teeth were almost equally bright, which made Gale nervous. But at least she was smiling. “I am not quite called Rose, even if you are close… RoseSong… or in my tongue, I am called Merelind.”

“Merelind…” Gale repeated, the music of her own name sweet like a melody and heady like the fragrance of her namesake. He gaped down in the water, that pretty face emerging from the surface, her hair pulled back to reveal patches of pink scales on her skin that simmered in the moonlight. Still water, clear water, he could see her tail in the moonlight, a pale blue that disappeared into the sundering dark. It undulated in the depths, and Gale couldn’t help but lean over the rail to catch a full glimpse of her beauty… further, and further…

Until a wet, cold hand stayed his descent and pressed on his chest.

The Siren’s hand shoved him back hand right on his Orb, a gasp from her pretty pink lips as a jolt passed between them. Purple light flared from his chest, and the triangular pendant at her neck hummed and glowed in a simultaneous flash. Air warmed and reverberated between them, a rhythmic pulse, almost like a heartbeat pounded against both their chests.

She frowned. “Ah, I was right. You are not like the others,” she murmured as she swam back the distances they had been repelled. “You come for my treasure with part of its magic already in you…” her mismatched eyes scanned the glow of purple under his shirt.

Gale also frowned. “You can sense my curse, can you?

Merelind nodded. “It is why I spared your life… You and your crew that now camps on my beach.” An eerie smile crawled over her berry-pink lips as she bobbed in the waters at his side. “By rights, according to my own curse, your life is mine, forfeit the moment you entered my waters.”

Even as he stared down at her, her skin covered in patches of light pink scales, even as he realized she could pull him body and soul into the depths to drown, Gale could only stare at her pretty, bewitching face. “F-Forfeit?” he finally stammered as her meaning reached past the veil of pining that had fallen on the poor pirate.

“Aye,” she gave a musical laugh, reaching a hand to rest beside him on the wooden rail. “But the magic in your body is like mine. This artifact that holds me cursed and bound to this servitude.” Her mismatched eyes searched his shocked expression. “What lies within you, Gale of Deep Water?”

“Ahem, it’s Waterdee—, nevermind,” he swallowed down his pedantic nature for once to answer her. “The Orb of Netheril. This blight that has infected me with its curse…” The lines of his Orb pulsed a bright purple among the other dark tattooed lines on his neck. “I’ve tried all sorts of magic to be broken from my curse, but the only thing that might free me is…”

“The Crown.” Merelind interjected, even as the same words fell silent on Gale’s tongue. “The very treasure whose keys rest about my neck. The very treasure whose existence binds me body and soul to this wretched island, that keeps these Netherstones, heavy on my neck, as my burden to bear.”

She rose from the water, her breasts bare and glistening in the moonlight, and between them shone that tricolored pendant again. Scowling, she pulled up from the water, crossing both arms on the rail and resting her chin on them. “I spared your life out of instinct, and every thought I have even now is screaming at me to save you from this cursed urge inside me to pull you under and wrap myself around your body until you grow stiff.”

Gale swallowed, the image making him grow stiff alright. He sputtered a moment as he pulled back in the dinghy to give her room. “Umm forgive me, but why resist the urge so much for me?” He couldn’t fight the smile on his bearded face. “Do you find me incomparable? …unparalleled? Inimitable?” His smile turned just a little more haughty and arrogant. “Am I special?

Merelind nodded slowly, even as her eyes locked on his own two-toned eyes. “I suppose one could say so, yes,” she gave a low-toned giggle. “I’ve never managed to resist killing my quarries before, but with you, it’s different.” Tilting her head, she reached for the faintly glowing purple lines at his neck. “Does it hurt you, your cursed Orb of Karsus?”

As her fingers met his skin, she could feel his shudder, could see his pulse jump in that same artery under his pretty tanned skin.

Gale nodded. Somehow, the usual shame that accompanied discussing his affliction didn’t rear its ugly head, not with her. “It needs to be sated. Fed. From time to time, I must consume strands of Weave or else the pain grows to be unbearable.”

His dark eyes flicked to her beside him, the way he skin glistened in the moonlight, the way it bathed each pretty freckle on her skin…. He shook his head, returning to his senses at last. “What will happen if you do not abide by your curse’s rules?” He asked softly, reaching to rest his hand on the wood rail of the vessel. So close to her elbow.

Merelind shrugged, the briefest forlorn flash on her face. “I know not. You are the first I’ve ever spared from my urge.”

“Then let me help you, Merelind,” he replied so quickly, almost speaking over her. “We can break our curses together. Once I have the Crown of Karsus, I’ll set you free from your obligation to guard it. I’ll use the stones to unlock its power, and you will be a free woman… er… free siren.” He spoke so rapidly, thinking out loud as he reached to rest his touch on that arm so close to him. Her skin so soft, if cool and damp, he noticed.

Blue and red eyes flashed up at him, wide and shocked. “You would? You would see me cured and not cursed?” Her voice trembled as she spoke. “You’d see me no longer a monster, a terror of the sea?”

“You aren’t one now, Merelind,” he spoke softly, her name sweet on his tongue, looking down at her as she seemed to creep closer into his vessel. To approach him or to drown him, he wasn’t sure. And he wasn’t sure he cared. “You are no more a monster than I.” Gale gestured to the lines of purple that marred his cheek and led to his white, milky eye. “If left uncured, who knows how disfigured I could grow, how rotten and veined my body might become…”

Merelind pulled herself to sit on the rail of the boat now, her powdered blue tail dangling into the water. Her simmering fin still caught the moonlight just below the surface. It mesmerized him, making him lean over the water a little…

…a little too far. The skiff rocked and bobbed off balance, and two wet hands gripped into the arms of his jacket to tackle him into the bottom of his vessel. To save him from tumbling into the drink… from drowning. Again.

“Oof!” Gale muttered, inhaling a sweet floral scent so close to his nose as he got his bearings. Opening his eyes, his vision was filled with blonde wet hair and freckled cheeks and mismatched eyes…

And Gale froze, surely blushing. “S-See, you saved me! You’re not a murderer!” He exclaimed a little too loudly as he sat up and shifted to give the Siren some room. “You have no reason to avoid my help and, heh, cast me off…”

The Siren looked at him for his humor, pink lips turning regardless of the pun’s quality into a smile. Another mark in her favor. “Alright. I accept. I free you, you free me or die by my hand.” She nodded perfunctorily as if it was the most logical agreement ever.

Gale’s mouth hung slack, and then shut. “Very well, my word as a gentleman. We will help each other, Merelind, cursed Siren of the sea.”

A smile on her face, and she sat herself up from being sprawled on the deck of his skiff. A burst of rosy pink light, and suddenly… that captivating tail was gone, replaced by a long and freckled pair of legs.

Bare ones. Naked ones.

Gale blushed harder, thanking the night for being dark as he took off his purple wool coat and looked away. “Ahem, for you my lady.” He extended the garment for her, praying to all the gods who would listen that it was hopefully long enough to cover to her thighs.

She took it, shrugging it on and closing it to hang loosely over her lithe frame. “You mortals and your senses of decency are fascinating,” she laughed a little. “But I suppose if I’m to join your crew, I cannot walk on bare legs any more than I can wear my tail aboard your ship.” She snapped her fingers for his attention. And those eyes, one dark and one white, they gazed at her with the briefest flash of intensity, of ardor she had only heard tales of…

The ballads and drinking songs she would listen to for a moment or two on other ships before luring them to their demise.

“Join my crew?” Gale hummed, considering as if he hadn’t been concocting ways to accomplish that very same end. “Well,” he stroked the beard on his chin, a cheeky grin on his lips, “the idea has many merits…”

“Is this is an attempt at mortal humor…” she trailed off, until she gave a wide smile that was all pointy teeth with her musical laugh. “Or are you reneging on your offer to help? Is this the part where I hold my need about dying by my hand?”

“Humor! Humor!” He gave a nervous laugh, grabbing the oars and starting to row them back towards the beach and camp. A little hard and vigorous, as if that slight threat she made against him didn’t only reignite the hunger in his lower reshoots again. “One must always be a gentleman. I would not go back on my word to you. You and I, my siren, we will both be broken of our curses.”

The sloshing of the oars was the only sound for a time as he rowed back to shore. Gale kept his eyes up, watching the shore get closer, except when they would dart over her pretty freckled face every now and then. She looked away from him, those Netherstones resting on her chest just where the lapels of his coat closed around her.

Finally it was her musical voice that broke the silence. “How long have you had your…?” Merelind turned sharply, gesturing to the left side of her face.

“My curse? This blasted Orb? This macabre blight that is determined to make me suffer?” He suddenly pulled harder at the oars, out of irritation. Anger. “It’s been a year I’ve had it in my chest, slowly driving my body into ruin.”

She looked at him, those eyes blinking slowly. “It is curious. I only know of the Crown, and these, of course,” she lifted the pendant from her neck briefly. “How did you come by it? Your cursed Orb, I mean.”

Gale paused his rowing, watching her in the middle of the sea, their boat drifting towards the shore. His tanned face looked stricken, his eyes half-lidded and distraught. “I found an ancient tome, the magic inside it lost, and angry… and hungry. I had only wanted to read to find the location of the Crown to give to my lover… to my Queen.”

He sighed, swearing he caught a flicker of silver eyes and black hair beside him.

No. He chastised himself for imagining Mystra here. Now. No. She’d not be thinking of him, so why should he, her?

“Is that why you seek the Crown now? To give to some mortal Queen?” Merelind stiffened, slightly but perceptibly. Her nostrils flared, and Gale could swear her hand clenched on the fabric of his coat on her pretty body.

“No.” That was his reply. “No, I only wish to be cured now.”

Liar… his mind hissed at him. Had he not been contemplating offering it for his forgiveness and privateering contract back intact just today? Before he had met this beguiling siren. He caught himself staring at her face, just a little too long.

How his life had changed so much in a day. Again.

This time for the better, he hoped. This time, he hoped it was a chance to break his curse, not succumbing to it like last time. His heart was pounding, watching as she leaned in, that scent of a floral perfume in his nose again. Her cool breath, he swore he could feel it on his face as she huffed a laugh and smiled.

“Then I’ll be cured too,” she crossed her legs at the knees, bouncing the top most slowly, bumping his calf. “I’ll be free. I can leave this isle, my soul and sanity intact.”

Regal. Magical. The way she was bathed in the moonlight, how he wanted to stay awhile, to drink her in.

Gods… her lips turned in a hopeful smile, a real one. “Breathtaking,” he barely whispered. “Like a queen.”

“I am no queen, just a sea monster,” she tipped her head to the side, those eyes inexplicably lowering to his mouth.

Gale almost interrupted her self-deprecation. Yes, you are. And trust me, I should know…”

Her pointed ear lowered, her legs stilling, bare foot pressing against the side of his leg. That little bit of innocent contact suddenly feeling oh so less than innocent.

Gale couldn’t bring himself to turn away, even as his Orb burned more as he leaned in closer. A little purple light flickered and glowed from it as he drew barely a breath away from her own lips. Then those Netherstones began to glow too, a wash of rosy colors shining against her own chest. He swallowed, their faces bathed in pink and purples as he… as he leaned…

“Captain,” she whispered. Turning her head away abruptly. The glow of her pendant vanished as quickly as it had illuminated. “Your crew is waiting, and dawn will not be long.” Merelind cleared her throat, pulling back and shifting on the seat.

A disappointed grunt at the back of his throat, and he grabbed the oars once more. “Ah, forgive me. It is not every day one can thank the beautiful Siren that saved their life twice over, arguably thrice now.” He gave an easy laugh, one well practiced from his days in court as the queen’s chosen lover.

“Indeed,” she replied coolly, tucking the hem of his jacket under her ass.

So regal, risen from the beautiful sea itself, he watched the Siren as the boat drew up on the beach. The moment they were shallow, she jumped over the side, strolling with such grace up the beach towards the bonfire. Her figure wrapped in the purples lines of his coat. Her hair bright in the wavering light….

He had only seen two sorts of being with such grace… princesses and predators.

Gale wondered which one she was.

Or if she was both.

🎨 by @deannamb

Thank you for Gale to @redisbetterr

Thank you to @nyx-knox for bouncing the plot and beta’ing

[pursuitseternal]

7 deadly sins of Merelind

Thank you @nyx-knox 🥰. Mer’s sins are in blue. As a Durge, noble background High Elf, unsurprising she���s very lustful, proud, and wrathful….

LUST: desire for connection. pursuit of pleasure. emotional intelligence. obsessive. lovesick. one-night stands. seductive encounter. flirtatious conversation. erotic party. seductive attire. revealing clothing. passionate gaze. provocative makeup. sensual expressions. suggestive gestures. flirtatious smiles. lingerie. love letters. perfumes. provocative behavior. love poems. erotic art.

GLUTTONY: indulgence in experiences. savouring moments. hospitality. generosity. hedonism. culinary expertise. wine-tasting. excessive snacking. overloaded plates. excessive portions. bloated stomachs. messy eating. greasy fingers. full tables. indulgent spreads. overflowing cups. satisfied expressions. wine bottles. just can't get enough. fast food wrappers.

ENVY: motivation. competitive spirit. strategic planning. observational skills. bitter rivalry. contest. envious gossip. resentment-filled argument. social media jealousy. furrowed brows. clenched jaws. side-eye looks. pursed lips. tense posture. whispering behind backs. crossed arms. gossip magazines. keeping up with the joneses. the grass is always greener. feeling inadequate.

GREED: resourcefulness. entrepreneurial spirit. negotiation. materialistic. aggressive investment. lavish spending spree. resource-hoarding. get-rich-quick schemes. auction-bidding war. property acquisition. piles of money. overflowing wallets. luxury items. locked safes. penny-pinching. rare collectibles. selfishness. unwillingness to share.

SLOTH: calmness. stress management. nonchalance. relaxation techniques. lethargic. apathetic. inactive. lazy weekend. binge-watching marathon. neglected chores. skipped workout. long nap. lounging on the couch. missed deadlines. unkempt appearance. messy hair. pajamas. blankets. slippers. procrastination station. self-care routines.

PRIDE: confidence. self-assurance. self-respect. dignity. public speaking. self-promotion. arrogant. conceited. egotistical. self-important. vain. boastful speech. puffed chest. raised chin. smug smiles. spotlight. tooting your own horn. showing off. refusing to admit mistakes. feeling entitled. personal branding. leadership development.

WRATH: assertiveness. decisiveness. strength. intensity. boundary setting. courage. indignant. heated arguments. road rage incident. physical altercation. angry outburst. clenched fists. glaring eyes. tense muscles. raised voices. reddened faces. aggressive gestures. stormy demeanour. intense frowns. destructive actions. broken objects. punching bag. out for blood. fists. simmering anger.

Tagging: @redisbetterr @kowashites @marlowethebard @marimosalad @astarioffsimpmain @astarfruity @nenalunes @charmandabear @roguishcat @scrapsovereign @blitzy-arts

[pursuitseternal]

🧜‍♀️“𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓜𝓮𝓻”🧜‍♀️

“𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦”

- Shakespeare, “Romeo and Juliet”

As a Bard, Merelind makes the most alluring Siren… Could anyone rest that voice? Not Astarion 🌹

🎨 by @snowfolly with her stunning YCH!

[pursuitseternal]

“A Night with the Ascendant” 🍷Wip Wednesday

Getting closer to the end…..

🎨 by @nyx-knox

Tagging: @nyx-knox @scrapsovereign @hellethil @roguishcat @charmandabear @khywren @tragedybunny @vixstarria @marlowethebard @marimosalad @nenalunes

[pursuitseternal]

“𝓕𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽”

Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight Drawn after you, – you pattern of all those.

- 𝒮𝑜𝓃𝓃𝑒𝓉 𝟫𝟪, 𝒮𝒽𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒

𝑀𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓀𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓈

🎨 by @dafna-winchester

Based on the painting “The Swing (Springtime) by Pierre-August Cot

[pursuitseternal]

Your OC as a Flower

Thank you for the tag @nyx-knox

For my princess Merelind, there are two flowers, like her eyes and her partners

Forget Me Knots 🪻 Remembrance, true love, and fidelity…

Red Roses🌹 Deep love, passion, and romance…

Tagging: @marimosalad @redisbetterr @kowashites @keekie @lakefu @scrapsovereign @charmandabear