#Tav: Zynatheri Rivati

[psalacanthea]

OC Meme

thanks very much for tagging me, @vspin! Sorry it took me so long, I'm in a one-track brain state. :) (art by the best person ever, @tadpole-apocalypse)

name: Zynatheri Rivati. Born Ilethri Zhenafeyl. Many AKAs.

nickname(s): Zyn

pronouns: any/all, afab. if gender is a spectrum Zyn's missing like 1/8th on the masc side.

star sign: whichever one gives you an excuse for being a bitch because that seems convenient to have

height: 4'11" or 5'5"

orientation: Pan

race: Drow

romancing: Astarion

fave fruit: Pomegranate

fave season: Autumn. Not unbearably cold yet, but in Waterdeep as a child, there were more overcast days. She was expected to keep a human schedule, which meant lots of headaches from the sun.

fave flower: Half-blossomed roses, violets

fave scent: Jasmine and vetiver

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: Whatever's on hand. She isn't picky.

average sleep hours: Depends on where her head's at. Sometimes it's a four hour trance, sometimes it's a five hour sleep. When she travels alone, usually trance.

dogs or cats: she has a big soft spot for cats, but loves them both.

dream trip: somewhere quiet, maybe an empty villa overlooking the ocean, to stay still for a little while without feeling restless and unhappy. if such a thing is possible.

amount of blankets: If her being poor doesn't get in the way? Maybe just one, but one of those giant fluffy duvets she can sink into smugly.

random fact(s):

Genuinely did not believe Volothamp was Volothamp throughout the whole adventure because he couldn't possibly be that stupid. Never meet your heroes.

Is so incredibly lucky that she is just...lucky. Not good luck, not bad luck. Just luck. She cannot win and she cannot lose.

Has had seven step fathers.

[psalacanthea]

WiP Whenever

I don't know what to say. It's in my head so I wrote it down to try and purge it (but ofc this is a plot bunny so I just gave it more space in my brain). If you want me to continue writing this, please do let me know.

Astarion x Tav, modern au. When you accidentally rescue a spoiled brat on the street who got turned into a vampire last night.

...

There was someone in Zynatheri's bedroom- not unusual, but she didn't remember bringing anyone home from last night's gig.

Eventually, she realized the intermittent creaking and shifting of her mattress was not, in fact, a one night stand trying to sneak out without waking her, but someone kicking it.

One eye slowly cracked open, took note of the thin streak of light peeking between her curtains, and Zyn closed her eyes again.  Still daytime.  “M’sleeping.  See y’self out.”

A high, irritated voice drilled into her brain like a five in the morning construction crew.  “Why are you sleeping?  You’re marginally elven.  It’s been five hours, get up already.  Your fridge is empty, I'm hungry, and you don’t have any tea.”

Her mattress was kicked again in an irritable rhythm, like a tantruming child.

Oh, right, she’d accidentally picked up some patriar on a bender last night who'd wandered into the wrong neighborhood and gotten jumped.  Great.  She gathered up her blanket from under her neck and chest, and bunched it up so she could shove her face into it.  “M’nocturnal, sun hurts my eyes.  Go home.”

“I can’t go home!” His voice finally penetrated with some nuance, and she realized he sounded…scared.  Why was he scared?  His voice sharpened.  “Now wake up!”

Why was he scared and annoying?

Last night’s chaos and confusion finally filtered in, reminding her of just what the hell was going on.  He’d all but burst into her apartment just before dawn, yelling something about being chased.  Right.  She’d assumed he’d gotten lost slumming it, and had given him a couch and thrown a ward on the door because she was too tired to deal with it.

But now it was daytime and he was still here.  

Ick.

Why couldn’t he go– “Dedicated robber.  I guess.”  Reaching up, she pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing her fingertips into the corners of her eyes.  Ick, eye crunchies.  Still not paying attention to him, she excavated them with a nail, flopping over onto her side.  “Just go out through the alley, there’s a door marked garbage in the lobby.”

“That won’t stop me from burning!”

Something was shoved into the line of her blurry vision, which she lifted a hand to bat out of the way, only to realize the skin was blistered and peeling.  Wait, what?  Was that– “Are you burned?”  Had he been burned before?  She didn’t think so.  Well, he was a patriar.  “Did you try to cook or something?”

“No, the sun did this.”

Wait, what?  Zyn was too tired for this.  With a little groan, she reached up and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, trying to banish sleep.  Luckily the idiot moved out of her way as she swung her legs off the bed, heaving herself up to sit.  

Raking back her hair with both hands, she inhaled sharply through her nose and stood up, feet instinctively avoiding the splintered bit of wood just at the edge of her bed.  The landlord kept claiming he was going to finish the flooring.  She didn’t care; Zyn got a slight discount because it wasn’t and she needed the money.

Ignoring the tall, irritatingly pale eladrin standing over her like she was supposed to solve his problems, she turned away from the bed and headed for the bathroom. Zyn tugged her t-shirt down over her ass.  Avoiding the damaged threshold, she pulled open the creaking bathroom door and headed for the sink.  The eladrin followed.

Turning on the tap, she let the water run for a few seconds before splashing her face, the ice-cold water penetrating both mind and body alike, briskly waking her up.  There.  Now she could be lucid.  The toothbrush she definitely needed to replace was shoved into her mouth, and then she set to picking the dried toothpaste off of the mouth of the tube.  

“I’m having a bit of an urgent situation here, if you don’t mind.”

“Mhmm,” Zyn mumbled absently, squeezing out a thin ribbon of toothpaste and smearing it over her brush.  “I don’t have a spare toothbrush.”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

“You should, it’s important to–” she glanced over her shoulder again, un-blurred eyes finally taking him in.  Oh.  That’s why she’d let him into her apartment.

His face was long, a little too aristocratic for her liking, but with a very pretty mouth and devastatingly attractive eyes, despite the colo– wait.  Narrowing hers, Zynatheri peered into the stranger’s scarlet eyes.  Red eyes.  On an eladrin.

“Are you half drow?”

He drew himself up, looking offended.  Still disheveled, though.  “How dare you.”

“Don’t be a bi–” She stopped.  Her eyes flickered down to his burned hand.  Burned.  Red eyes.  He’d been standing behind her when she– 

Zyn turned back around, staring into the spotty, tarnished mirror.

Only her own reflection gazed back, the doorway behind her empty.  Shit.  All right, so she’d invited a vampire into her house.  Fine, fine, that was fine.  But why had he tried to go out in the su–

“So weird question, but those guys that jumped you last night.  Did one of them bite you?”

“What are you– yes, if you must know.”

“Look in the mirror.”

There was silence from behind her for a good few seconds, as the stranger had a Revelation.  Not wanting to waste time, Zyn took the opportunity to wet her toothbrush and start brushing away, waiting for reality to sink in.  Neh.  If he tried to bite her he probably didn’t know how, so a swift kick to the balls should settle things.

Luckily she knew a lot of people who were probably okay with being bit by a vampire spawn, but as far as she knew usually spawns weren’t just…able to escape like this.  Probably better to hand him off to someone and be done with it before the big one came to claim him.  If he really was a spoiled little patriar, his family would probably figure it out.

“Shit,” he said from behind her, voice hushed.

[psalacanthea]

WiP Wednesday

Since Durge and Gortash won the Friday poll, I'll pull something out of the other BG3 fic for WiP day. My pace with the new chapter is a little slow, between taking a week off and now dealing with Pain, but hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to focus enough to make some real progress.

From the Astarion x Tav longfic, a little bit of WiP for your amusement. (if you would like to be tagged to do your own in the future, pls let me know)

...

“Well, if you used that sensible mind you keep claiming to have, you’d know that obviously I’m her patron,” Astarion sneered at Shadowheart.  His voice relaxed, going lazy and dismissive once more.  “And muse, naturally.”

Zyn considered drawing a gigantic curly moustache on her sketch of him.  It was rude to interrupt.  “My peerage or lack thereof has not yet been shared– please avoid making assumptions about me.”  No, this wasn’t right.  He looked too…neat and tidy.  She grimaced at her sketch, and then glanced back up at her subject.  “Could I see a little more collarbone on the left side?”

“I’m not giving it away,” Astarion scoffed.

“Darling it’s for aesthetics, not expression of base lechery,” she begged.  “Your neckline is too symmetrical, it doesn’t give me ‘careless dandy’.”

Astarion scowled at her, lifting her stolen goblet as he demanded, “regal!  Make me look regal!”

How dare he not trust her artistic acumen.

“Even if your life depended on you appearing ‘regal’, I doubt I could oblige,” she snapped. "You egregious twink."

Shadowheart laughed faintly.

Astarion gasped, lifting a hand to his chest. His not nearly bared-enough chest.  “How dare you!  I am your patron! I could have you thrown out on the street!”

“Oh please, if there’s one thing upstart would-be nobles need, it’s portrait painters.  There’ll be another dozen of you by teatime.  You can dictate when you pay me, you contrary piss-puddle”  Zyn added shading to his neck, pausing as she glanced up to find his eyes on her.  He didn’t look angry, despite the insult.  He was smiling.  Ugh, that was the wrong expression entirely!  “Tilt your chin to the side!  Again. I told you to stop moving.”

Astarion sighed in annoyance and rolled his head to the left, hair swaying.

“I have no idea what’s going on, and yet I can’t look away,” Shadowheart said.

She settled down abruptly, pausing with one hand on the ground to snag one of Astarion’s pillows.  He made an irritated noise, but didn’t bother retaliating.  Zyn’s briefly riled mood flared up again.  Why could she have a pillow, but Zyn hadn’t been allowed one?

Traitor!

Zyn glared at Astarion until he glanced away from the goblet of wine he was staring into contemplatively. Her nose wrinkled as their eyes met. The pasty reprobate sighed heavily, eyes rolling skyward.

"What now?"

“You’ll not be welcome in my bed any longer if I catch you giving someone preferential treatment over me,” she threatened him.

“You–"  Astarion stared at her in shock, and then laughed, lifting a hand to his mouth. "Aha. Ha!" He dissolved into laughter as he sprawled back onto his pillows, ignoring her scowl.

Zyn slapped her stub of twine-wrapped pencil down on the paper, leaving a crumbled line as the tip snapped. "Stop it."

“Hah! I can’t believe you actually thought that would work!”

“I mean it, this is serious!” she whined as he started laughing over her again, throwing his head back. “You blaggard! That's it. It's moustache time.”

[psalacanthea]

Vampires, Romance, and Other Dead Things- Ch. 7

a new chapter in the Modern AU astarion x drow bard tav story found HERE! Having set up a counter-ambush to an anticipated attack from the other vampire spawn, now all Zyn has to do is drag his ass onstage. He promised Shadowheart one live show, and afterward they'll draw out the servants of Astarion's mysterious vamp daddy.

But Zyn's used to working alone, and it's starting to cause problems.

...

Certain the Harpers were shadowing her, she’d found a back street that didn’t look like it would damage too much if there was to be a scuffle here.  Between a half-dozen old buildings converted into multi-housing units there was an empty lot.  There was a No Excavation notice on one of the walls, which explained why it was here.  Seemed like this place was over one of the many dangerous structures under Baldur’s Gate.

Maybe caves.  Or a drop into the Undercity, like the place by hers she’d dumped Aradin’s corpse down.  A scan showed no convenient dumping spots, however.  A broken stone bench, a lot of weeds, and a few bags of garbage.

“Hey Vamp Juniors,” she called, stepping dead-center between the buildings, gazing up at the sky.  How funny would it be if they were up there, being trailed by invisible Harpers?  Stupid vampires.  “I’m here for my money!  My friends are bringing your guy!”

She stood with her hands in the pockets of her jacket, feeling arrogant enough to do it.  They’d cobbled together a pretty good trap.  No way they’d figure it out.

“Didn’t you refuse the offer?  We were told to get rid of you,” an unfamiliar voice said from the shadows, snide and superior.

He walked out of the shadows with another vampire beside him, scarlet eyes glowing, casual upscale bar look slightly impeded by the…well, by the face.  And the hair.  They hair was the worst, really, with the poofing, and the– well, it looked like a guy with straight hair had tried to make his look kind of like Astarion’s.

His face also gave that impression, weirdly enough.

Budget Astarion.

Creepy, but also triggering to…certain instincts enhanced by her having reached out and touched misfortune.  “I don’t make it a habit to speak with men, they’re too lacking in reason and emotional control.”  She turned her attention to the vampire next to him, tiefling woman with scarlet skin.  Glowing eyes.  Hopefully it meant the vamp daddy could…see out of their eyes or something.

She wanted him to watch.

Angry.

“Do you want him or not?” she asked, noting movement out of the corner of her eye.  A trash can lid, jostled, fell to the ground with a thud.  Bad luck for them.  There were more than two of them, for sure.  “And if you try to sneak behind me , I’ll teleport to the roof and fireball this space, so you can either get out here or you can get crispy.”

“Clumsy,” the elven vamp said, voice high and mocking.  Almost childish.  Okay, maybe she wasn’t the one to speak to.  “Sister Dalyria, isn’t that embarrassing for you?”

“Violet, stop,” Great Value Astarion said.

“I was sympathizing.  Everyone’s always picking on me,” Violet pouted, crossing her arms under her breasts.

Zyn couldn’t tense up as two more vamps stalked out of the shadows– a wistful-looking elven woman and the long-haired shirtless guy from before.  Four was still doable.  They were fine.  “Okay, so I can see the tropes we’re going with her.  Insane child vampire was always a favorite of mine.  Bet you’ve got all sorts of creepy dolls!”

Violet glared at her.

“But I can’t quite place you.  Comic relief?”  she suggested to badly-cloned Astarion.

“Can we kill the prattling bitch, already?” he asked, scoffing and taking a step back.

All of their attention shifted, fast as a hastened monk, as the sound of voices started echoing from where Zyn had come from.  All five of them stood poised in silence as the voices and footsteps came closer, people finally emerging from the alley.  Astarion was being carried over Karlach’s shoulder.

Through the high of bullying, Zyn felt a tingle of amusement.  Of course he’d made Karlach carry him.  What a bitch.

“Got him secured?”  Zyn called.

“Put me down, you brute~” Astarion called with posture still completely relaxed, voice lilting a little too theatrically.  She wouldn’t be surprised if his cheek was propped up in his hand.  

How was he a bad liar, on top of everything?

The man was in politics!

[psalacanthea]

this is for everyone but mostly @tadpole-apocalypse who is of the very correct opinion that Astarion's sibling Petras is in dire need of bullying. I happen to agree, so I took a small break to write something in post-game. :P (is spoilery for my current fic but not hugely)

...

Astarion couldn’t be back soon enough.

People were trying to get Zynatheri to decide things, and utilize her power and parcel out judgments, and she just didn’t want to!  The way she’d explained it to Astarion was most sensible.  They were making a society of vampires.  The politics were going to be corrupt!  Why not start the corruption from the top, where it belonged?  She’d much rather be his puppet than do work.

And now Petras had showed up, knowing Astarion was gone, and demanded an audience.

She’d already been in the bath, of course, which meant she’d had to heave herself out, throw on some slippers and her robe, and storm down to the meeting room.  And then on top of that inconvenience, the part of the palace they did have access to was massive!  Enormous ebon corridors where every step echoed, gigantic frescoes of her horrible ancestors and their horrible spider goddess, every surface slick and shiny obsidian.  Even the smallest light penetrated far here.

Echoes, too, which she rather thought was the point– every single sound carried.

Dwarfed by the architecture, a clammy bite to the air making her skin prickle, Zyn passed through the hall and into a freshly emptied chamber.  The last of the crumbled stone had been moved, the bowed-in stone wall on the left side propped up and tidied up as best as they could.  It still looked…rough, but they had seven– six now– thousand vampires to look after.  Cosmetics were still a far distant concern.

Before they could try to hire stonemasons or wizards, they had to ensure said professionals wouldn’t be eaten the moment they stepped into the city.

It was rather touch and go.

Passing by a low torch, Zyn clutched at her robe, annoyance turning into frustration and amusement as she mulled over the irritating arrival.  Of course.  The instant he found out Astarion had left on an expedition to scout further into the city, Petras came to poke at her.  After all, she was a surefire way to draw Astarion’s attention.

And Petras very much did want Astarion’s attention, like any annoying little brother.

Not that she knew much about siblings.

In the antechamber outside of the meeting room, a huge vaulted space of ebon columns and recessed ornate sconces of blackened iron, Zyn paused.  She tucked her fingers into the component pouch at her belt, searching within until she found her sending wire.  Untangling it from the mess, she lifted it to her lips and hummed softly into it until it vibrated in her palm.

Closing her eyes, she sent her voice to her beloved.  “Petras has come to try something.  Little schemer.  I’m going to offend him terribly, so please be prepared.  I love you, dearest, so be careful.”

While she waited for a response, she tucked her wire back away.

Astarion’s voice reached her mind within a few moments.  “And I love you.  If he dies, he dies, but do try to keep him alive?  We need him to do the work we won’t.”

He’d managed to just hit twenty five that time!  Oh, excellently done.  His rhythm and pitch might be horrid at best, but her darling could handle a bit of wordplay.  

Steeling herself with that slightest snatch of Astarion’s voice to comfort her, Zynatheri began to do something she had to do so rarely now.  She was going to play a part.  Glad she hadn’t gotten dressed, she loosened the neck of her dark green, velvet-trimmed robe, letting it slide off of her shoulder, lazy and careless.  She tugged out the comb in her hair, letting it untwist, uncoil down to her ankles.  The delicate golden comb went behind her ear, contrasting the silver of her swaying hair.

Lazy, idle, uncaring- decorative.

An easy enough ruse.

With the embroidered silk of her robe sliding up her arms, she reached up and pushed open the doors.  Normally they were left open because they were so bloody big.  Petras must have closed them behind himself, for some petty purpo–

“Forgive me, sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

The doors were pulled away from her hands, her weight shifting dangerously, and although she knew it would likely aid in making a complete ass of Petras, she still couldn’t bring herself to fall into his arms.  Yuck.  Avoiding his hands, she caught herself and stepped back, staring at him through the now-open doors.

Gods.

She looked at him critically for just a moment– hair unfortunately similar to Astarion’s again, despite the fact that he didn’t have the curls for it.  He was wearing his nicer set of clothes, which should have been respectful, but wasn’t.  All it meant to her was that he really was trying something.

“Yes, that’s clear,” she said sardonically.  His strength was severely lacking in areas other than physical.  A complete lack of charm, for one.

And he wanted to be Astarion?

The very idea was laughable.

Petras stepped back politely from the doors.  “I’m sorry, I should have reassured you.  There was no reason to hurry.”

Why was he being nice?

Ew.

“I didn’t,” she replied, swanning past him and heading for the far end of the table, where her and Astarion’s seats overlooked the rest.

“So you intended to meet me in…wearing that?”

Hells, she wanted to put a hole in him.  Or some lightning.  “I wear what I like in my home.  Please leave your notions of ‘society’ behind.  That world rejected you.”  She turned at the head of the table with a flare of her robe, hair annoyingly clinging and twisting.

Gods, right, this was why she kept her hair up or shorter.  Ugh.  It was so heavy.  “I would rather speak of a new world.  One that we create.”  She sank into her chair, gesturing for him to take his.

Much further down the table.

But instead, in some sort of power play, he walked up the line of chairs, running his doughy hand along each one.  Zynatheri tried not to be judgemental, but she was a bit of a snob when it came to hands.  His fingers were short, and not tapered elegantly.  They were repulsive in a way she hadn’t known she’d felt until they were attached to the man himself.

Now every time she saw someone with similar digits she would have no choice but to be disgusted.

“You cut your hair again.  I thought you’d been so determined to grow your hair out, now that you’re a ‘full vampire’ at last,”  Zyn said, refusing to be cowed when he leaned on top of Dal’s chair and stared down at her.  Sometimes it was difficult being the lone mortal.  

“You can’t still be holding a grudge over that,” he said, annoyance touching his face.  He even leaned back a little, his body language betraying his attempt to manipulate her by seeming friendly.  Well, more than friendly. "I didn't mean to kill them."

"But you did."

Here she’d thought he was coming to whine and threaten, but instead he was attempting seduction.  As much as these siblings of her lover infuriated her, she felt a deep and profound sympathy for them all.  They had all been harmed in the same ways, and had some of the same behaviors, and she could not help but give them grace.  Which was Astarion’s fault.  He was the one who had softened her heart to his past suffering, after all.

Was it any wonder that concern now extended to his siblings?

It was a strange sensation, the simultaneous desire to protect and care for them, mixed with the constant desire to cause them harm– bully them– both mentally and physically.  Was that what they called…siblings?  If so, a great many things she had read and witnessed in her life suddenly made much more sense.

 All of that to say, she was worried that if Petras was trying to seduce her, there was something very wrong with him.  That was dangerous.  The family, co-ruler, victim and tormenter both dynamic they all had was precarious, volatile.  If it collapsed, so would their delicate, tenuous grasp on the spawn in the city.

That might mean death for them all.

“Whatever you need, if it’s reasonable, I won’t block you– in fact, I’ll help you.  There’s no need for this,” Zyn said firmly, hoping that was all it was.  Maneuvering, and not…lust or a desire for her blood.  If it was bloodlust she could just smack him silly and not feel guilty. "I have no desire to pretend we're friendly."

A well-placed bit of vicious mockery and she’d have him sobbing.

In response, he leaned towards her, Zyn holding her ground with annoyance as he came closer.  When his hand darted out, grabbing her by the neck, she only felt relief.  Oh, good.  He’d come to do something stupid.

Petras glared down his nose at her.  “Listen here, cattle.  You’re going to watch your tone and do what I say, or I’ll snap this pretty neck of yours.”

Coming from Astarion that would have been attractive and threatening; Petras just managed sullen and bossy.  Hardly impressive.  Plus, the cattle thing, which was stunningly unattractive.  She stared at him flatly, eyes half-lidded, lips pursing into a line.  His hand tightened, fingers pressing into the sides of her neck.

Ugh, no, if she didn’t retaliate he’d ruin choking for her with those shapeless, ugly hands of his.

Rather than say something snide, she gathered her rising anger and breath while she still could, and screamed directly in his face.  The thuderwave hit him full-force, and Petras went arse over teakettle, hand ripped from her throat as he slammed into the heavy stone chair and then went tumbling to the black tile, landing heavily on his back and skidding.

“That’s it?!” she demanded, voice fighting with the echoes of her scream.  Zynatheri  shot to her feet and stomped after him, eyes blazing with fury.  “All of this just to do your best Cazador impression and attack me?  You pissing malcontent!  You whey-blooded simpleton!  Astarion isn’t stupid and your plan isn’t clever.  He’d uncover what you've done, and then you'll be dead!”

Petras pulled himself up to his elbows abruptly, hair just cut back into his old mimicry of Astarion’s falling into his face, making him look all the more stupid.  “I am fully capable of hiding a body!” he retorted, vibrating with pure offense.

Her own fury rose in tandem.  How dare he think for even a moment he’d be capable of killing her?!  “Even if you failed your way into success, he would never stop until he found out what had happened to me,” Zynatheri retorted, stepping in and kicking him back down to the floor, her hands balled up in her robe.  He started to struggle back up but she stepped in, planting her foot and shifting all her weight onto it. 

She ground her heel into his chest.

“You will listen to me.  Astarion’s survival is all that matters to me, and you being content enough not to do anything foolish is important to me because of that.”

His scarlet eyes blazed, lips pulled into a sour, furious grimace.

“All of us are better off because you are alive, so stop trying to die,” she said, dragging her foot across his chest as she pulled back, heel pressing the whole way.  Dropping her robe, she smoothed her hands down her soft hips, glaring down at Petras.  “But never forget– you are beneath me.”  She smiled, slow and mocking, their eyes holding with a vibrant intensity.  “So stay beneath me, or I might notice you when I’m feeling less…altruistic.  Your oafish presence offends me.”

His fingers clenched into fists.  “How dare you.  Let go of me!”

“Let go of you? You are entirely free to go,” she said, gesturing with one hand.  “Have you forgotten where the door is, I wonder?  What a very poor memory you have, Petras.  You attacked me.  Don’t play the victim.”

Why the Hells was he still lying on the floor?  She wasn’t even that strong, she couldn’t have kicked him hard enough to do any damage.  What a dramatic little twit.

Well, if he wasn’t going to leave first–

It was petty to step on his shoulder on her way past him, but she did it anyway.  A test, perhaps, to see if he would retaliate, but that was just an excuse.  The little arse had annoyed her.

He made a small sound in the back of her throat as she ground her weight into his shoulder, but that was all she heard apart from the soft echo of her own footsteps.  When she glanced back at the exit to the meeting room, he had pulled up to sit and was staring at her, rage barely contained.  She smiled, sweetly.

“Next time your humiliation will be public.”

Oddly, he didn’t snap back immediately, but the intensity of his stare grew all the more intense and venomous.  Perhaps he was learning some self-control.  When he spoke at last, it was mocking.  “I can wait.  Sooner or later, Astarion will tire of playing with his food and you’ll be just as dead.”

Was he trying to get her to smack him around more?  Ugh.  As if she was going to rise to such poorly crafted bait.

“See yourself out, little brother!” she sang mockingly, spinning dramatically and swanning through the doors.

It was an excellent exit despite the insults he was shouting after her, which she was quite smug about. Zynatheri shuffled through the antechamber, yanking her hair over her shoulder so it would stop twisting around her ankles.  Very good, very dramatic, hair like this, but she’d forgotten what a nuisance it was.  Well, Zyn might as well go chop it off.

Part of her did regret not teaching the brat more of a lesson, but– wait.

Had he been trying to get her to slap him around a bit more?  Was that all on purpose?  If so, that meant…oh dear.

Malice and misfortune, of course it was.

Zynatheri knew it was a waste of what power her poor body could handle channeling in a day, but Astarion was gone and she needed someone to share this with.  Without him, what was the point in anything?  If she couldn’t speak with him, why speak at all?

In her haste, mirth bubbling like a spring, mixed with the delight of sheer horror, Zyn Sent to her beloved without counting the words.  “Darling, oh my beloved viper!  My sanguine heart.  Come home, I’m suffering.  I may have just accidentally fed one of your brother’s fetishes.  Sorry–”

Her fingers clutched around the tangle of wire in annoyance as she was cut off, lips pursing.

“Well,” Astarion responded in her mind, highly amused, “I suppose curiosity killed my little fox, didn’t it?  Poor darling.  I’ll be home before you know it.”

Pouting to herself, she went skulking back to her bath to scrub the feel of his hand from her skin.  All she could do was hope she was wrong, and hope it never happened again.  Zynatheri had a small, sneaking suspicion that this was far from over, however.  Gods and archdevils, she wanted to kick the little pissant around some more.

But if he liked it...

Ugh, having siblings was complicated.

[psalacanthea]

Fanfic Friday!

Since the game canon Zyn x Astarion was voted, I worked on Dissonance and Debauchery for my writing time the last couple days! I still can't promise when it'll update, but I have made progress on the next chapter. So here's a bit from it, for all of you that voted!

Astarion x Tav (drow bard), tiefling party night post-coital cuddling negotiations. 1900ish words.

Languidly Zyn accepted the kiss that was being pressed on her, lips swollen and lax.

Astarion stroked a finger from under her lip to down the line of her throat, with just the edge of a nail dragging.  It felt nice.  Grounding.

“There we are.  See?  Much better when you’re properly rested and sober.”

Zyn gave an impish little smirk, but couldn’t quite maintain the energy for it.  The smirk went gooey.  Loose.  “And when you’re not in danger of killing me?”

With a long, self-satisfied sigh, Astarion abruptly sat up, pulling out of her line of vision.  Turning her head to the side, she watched as he straightened, arms stretching languidly over his head, fingers spread.  With a slow exhale he collapsed, arms falling to the bedroll.  He tilted his head to the side, hair spilling across his forehead, and their eyes met again.

“You can go now,” she offered lazily.

Instantly his posture stiffened, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as he snapped waspishly, “I’m sorry, are you kicking me out of your tent?”

What?

“No, I’m saying that if you want to go, you can go,” she replied, grabbing the discarded pillow from above the bedroll and dragging it back under her head.  Gods, her hair was going to be a mess.  Hmm, chopping.  “I’m not going to try and get you to stay this time.  You obviously have no interest in it.”

His lips pursed, thinned, and then twisted to the side before he rolled his eyes to the side.  “Stop assuming things about me, it’s irritating.  You’re not as all-knowing as you think you are.”

“Mmh,” she replied dismissively.  He just didn’t like that she was right, that was all.  Maybe up to the shoulders?  Higher?  Oh, she could be bald.  Hmm…

His voice turned ingratiating, which drew her attention back instantly.  The actual words, however, were displeasing.  “Pet, stop pouting.”

Why would she– “I’m not pouting, and you’re ruining the mood.”

“You ruined the mood when you told me to get out,” he retorted, voice a little sharp as he dropped the facade, obviously annoyed by her refusal to play along again.

Ugh, was he serious?  Why did he keep acting as if her drawing boundaries was her having a snit?  If he didn’t cuddle, fine.  That made them incompatible.  “I didn’t say you should get out, I said you could if you liked.”

His hands slapped down on his bare thighs, noisily.  Shifting back, his scarlet gaze bored into her, chin lifting so he could assert his superior position by sticking his nose in the air.  “Well, I want to stay!  What about that?”

Zyn’s cheeks puffed out as she blew them out.  “Then stay?  I’m not going to tell you what to do, you’re a grown man.”  Part of her really didn’t want to say anything, but another part of her was tired of how confusing he was.  “Sometimes you make absolutely no sense to me.”

“Oh, you never make any sense to me,” Astarion replied, chuckling grudgingly when it made her laugh, slow and drowsy.  “What is it that you want?”

Zynatheri gave him a look of sheer disbelief.  “I have been completely upfront about what I want.  What do you mean what do I want?”  Was he really being this obtuse?

His lips curved into a very ill-timed seductive smile.  “Well, darling, if you’re not satisfied…”

“Ugh, you’re doing that again,” she sighed, regally waving a dismissive hand, forcing him to lean back.  Gods, did he have no artistry in his sou– oh, right, no soul.  “Sex is not just the thrusting bits.  Don’t you enjoy the comfort of just…being around another person?  Listening to a heartbeat?  Feeling the warmth of a body?  Brushing someone’s hair, being massaged, counting freckles?  Listening to stories?  Just enjoying learning about a person.”

“I…no,”  Astarion replied, voice surprisingly subdued for a split second.  And then it took on a humorous edge.  “Maybe I’m just not much of a cuddler.  What’s wrong with that?”

“And I’m not used to sleeping with the same person twice,” she retorted, a little sourly.  How dare he only take, and not give.  That sealed it; if he didn’t cuddle, she was done with him.    “This is new for both of us.  I am reluctantly forced to admit that…”  The earlier incorporeal god botherer had really driven it home.  “This little adventure is unprecedented in my almost two hundred years of life.  I think you feel the same.  So why can’t we both try something new?”

“Not the worst argument.  But still…”  Astarion gave her a sidelong look, the charmingly tousled state of his hair giving him a rakish air.  “Your obsession with pillow talk is bad enough.  If I let you cuddle me, I’ll never be free of you.”

Aah.

He wanted to be convinced.

“Trust me, my sweet viper,” she reached up and caressed his chin, a playful little beckon.  “I’m not going to be catching feelings.”  And he couldn’t, which she had to remember.  Vampire.  He was undead, he didn’t feel things like other people.

Astarion was safe.

Which was why his next words didn’t bother her.  “That sounds like a challenge.”

“I know you’re at least considering giving me what I want– I can see it on your face,” she said, smirking when he rolled his eyes and glanced away.  She rolled onto her back, stretching languidly.  “Mhmm.  Darling, this isn’t a case of me lacking interest in you.  I find you very entertaining.  But I don’t like sleeping with the same person twice in the first place, and especially not when I don’t get any cuddling out of it.  I’m already compromising by not pretending you don’t exist the next morning.”

It broke him, a twitch of a smile touching his lips despite his efforts to keep it back.  When her grin widened, wickedly, he reached down and pinched the end of her nose.  “You do realize how insane you sound, don’t you?”

Jerking her chin up, Zyn snapped at his hand.  Pulling it back abruptly, dramatically, Astarion gave her a wide-eyed look of horrified shock. And then he smacked her cheek, very lightly.  Much like he spanked her, it was a little too hard to be a pat, but she’d be exaggerating to call it a slap.

It pleased and amused her that he never treated her as fragile.

Flashing him a wink, she didn’t deny the accusations.  “Well, always!  It’s part of my charm.  It’s up to you if it’s worth it to you or not– I must emphasize, I’ll hold no ill will at all.  I’ll think fondly of you.  Write a few dirty songs about you.  In fact…”

She rolled over onto her side in search of her lute, only to be grabbed and yanked back over.  

“Get back here!”

She blinked, sprawled out underneath him as he released her upper arm.  He gave a small ‘ugh’ of frustration, tilting his head back, the heel of his hand pressing into his forehead.  How dramatic.  It made him look extremely pretty, though.

That didn’t mean she missed the lascivious little peek at her bouncing tits, though.

The words ‘don’t touch me’ had yet to make an appearance, in that fretful, almost reflexively irritated voice.  She imagined he said it a lot.  Not wanting to follow that thought any deeper, though, she set it aside and focused on her reaction when she poked him testingly in the thigh.

Had he put his shield back up yet?

It seemed not, because he just sighed like a diva, raking his hair back and away from his face.  She took advantage and threw her arm across his waist, curling up against the side of his thigh and arse.  Astarion tilted his head slightly to stare down at her, ruby eye glinting faintly in the hints of light that pierced the cracks in the tent.  She wrinkled her nose at him.

“You’ll do it regardless,” he told her imperiously, like the brat he was.

“Do what?”

“Write songs about me.  There’s no point hiding it– I make a perfect muse.” His voice lowered to a beckoning purr.  “Don’t I?”

She smiled, unabashedly smug.  Oh.  Did this mean she was winning?  “Mmh, I suppose.  So you’re…compromising?”

He tapped her nose again.  “Just for now, my little fox.  To…keep my options open.  I haven’t decided if I’m done with you or not yet, and I’d rather be the one to decide if we’re done or not.”

Zynatheri giggled, full of mockery.  “Oh really?  Is that how this works?  You know, I never asked.  Why ‘fox’?”

He leaned over her, a hand planting next to her shoulder as he twisted to stare her down from a closer vantage.  She made a small contented noise as he sprawled on top of her, enjoying the triumph maybe a little bit more than his presence.  But they were both enjoyed.

“Because…darling, you are a smug little trickster who thinks she is the cleverest creature to ever grace this plane.”

Oh, well, when he put it like that…

Zyn nodded slowly in acknowledgement.  He was right.  Very well, she could add that into her mishmash of identities somewhere.  “Mmh, I see it.”

“Just as you call me ‘viper’ due to my deadliness, grace, and–”  Astarion glared down at her as her smug smirk widened.  “Oh no.”

How dare he leave himself vulnerable for such an attack?  If Zyn didn’t take the opportunity, it’d be a waste.  “Because you have fangs and you’re cute,” she told him quite seriously.

His expression soured, instantly.  “I hate you.”

“I have a book you haven’t read, and a very comfortable lap.”  she didn’t bother to hide the luring little purr in her voice.

“Mmh.”  Astarion wrinkled his nose.  Pushing up onto his forearms, he scooted further down.  Before she could ask what the Hells he was doing, he collapsed, face-first, into her chest.  It did hurt, slightly, but men could be like that about tits.

“Just because they’re soft doesn’t mean they’re invincible,” she groaned in annoyance as he burrowed in.  Irritated, she gently swatted the back of his head.  “What are you doing?  Awful bloodsucker.”

Much to her great relief, he pushed up on his hands, smirking down at her.  “Bloodsucker?  Was that an invitation, my little fox?”

“Don’t you dare bite my tits,” she scolded, lifting a finger in front of his nose.

“Mmh,” his eyes left hers, raking down her body.  “I do love forbidden fruit,” he purred.

“Decide, you absolute stray tom.  In or out?” she sighed, quite over his waffling– even if it was playful now.  Instinct had her snapping, before his mouth had a chance to do anything but open, “do not say something sexual.”

Astarion pouted, jaw tight as his mouth closed.  Reaching up, he intercepted her hand as it reached for his cheek, flinging it away lightly.  Before she could protest, he rolled off of her and sat up again, lifting a hand reflexively to fix his hair.

“I was promised a book and a lap, I believe.”

Zyn smiled delightedly as she sat up, endlessly amused by the snobbish facade.  It made him so fun to play with.  Addictive, the desire to poke and prod, tease, annoy, anger, seduce…but no.  No.  She’d just won, she should be gracious.

Let him be the Lordling tonight.

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Vampires, Romance, and Other Dead Things- Ch. 2

ok, here is a new chapter of the Tav x Astarion modern au! astarion tries and fails to come to grips with his new unliving situation, and they learn a little bit more about each other in the process. unfortunately.

...

It had been three hours of The Real Househusbands of Menzoberranzan, and Zyn was losing his mind.

Astarion was huddled on his couch under five blankets, cradling a cup of tea he kept demanding be reheated.  As far as Zyn knew, he hadn’t drank any of it besides a sip.  But, well, underneath all the annoyance with the entitled, rude, spiteful, whiny little bastard, he did feel bad for the guy.  Being turned into a vampire– especially a spawn– sucked treant balls.

But even so…

“I hate this show so much, please.  I’m begging you.  Last episode.”

“Now?!  Be’thenn is divorcing Pavernyn,” Astarion replied from the depths of his blanket-cave.

“They’re not getting divorced, they said that at the christening, too.  Remember?  After that hair-pulling match Pav got into with the guy– shit, what was his name?  The one who’s had so much cosmetic magic done he looks like he’s having an allergic reaction.”

“His name is Mark.”

“Mark.  Mark?!  He’s drow.”

Astarion laughed scornfully.  “This is the Underdark.  Things are different down there.”

Zyn gave him the most unimpressed look ever.  “I’m drow, eladrin.  I know more than you.  Aren’t these reruns?”

“If you must know, I’m behind,” Astarion said shortly, burrowing deeper unto his blankets until all she could see was his hands clutching the best mug in the house, a gigantic chipped thing emblazoned with ‘Mama Needs Wine’.  “I actually have a job.  A real one, not just…playing with a guitar.” Barely could Zyn hear him mutter at the end,  “I think.”

“You think?” he asked, rather than getting offended.  Not that Zyn didn’t like a good fight, but he just didn’t care enough about this vampling to get riled up.  Also, his claim was pretty fair, Zynatheri didn’t really ‘do’ jobs.

“I’m–” Astarion cut off, the somber tone of his voice going sharp.  Annoyed.  Or defensive, maybe.  “Well, I’m a vampire, aren’t I?  It isn’t as if I can saunter into the office without bursting into flames!”  He sure did talk with his hands, which was a bit distracting.  Because they were very attractive hands, long-fingered and graceful.

“You can’t use the vampire thing every time I say something you don’t like.”

“Thi– thing?!”  Gods, here he went again.  His voice scaled up as he emerged from the blankets, charmingly half-curled hair askew, eyes wide.  “The vampire thing?!”

Zyn groaned, throwing his head back against the couch cushion, eyes closing briefly.  “Ugh, you’re so dramatic!  I get it!  You’re undead!  News flash, baby boy!  There’s a fucking lich living in a guy’s basement like two neighborhoods over!  Welcome to Lower City!  Everything’s fucked!”

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Vampires, Romance, and Other Dead Things- Ch. 6

New Chapter of the (genderfluid) Tav x Astarion modern AU at this link. Bickering, snuggling, attempted makeovers, and other such enjoyable nonsense, all interrupted by the unwelcome arrival of The Plot. Vamp daddy makes his first move to try and recover his escaped spawn.

...

Astarion immediately shot to his feet, ignoring Shadowheart’s shout of annoyance.

“Darling, please.  Whatever it is, we can talk about it!” he begged, darting towards her.  

When he got too close, Zynatheri pointed the closed scissors at him threateningly, making him stop short.  With a flick of her wrist, she pointed the tip at the bedroom door.  Hands up defensively, he flashed an awkward smile.  

“You wouldn’t hit a man with wet nails, would you?”

“Go.”

“Er, Zyn…”

Shadowheart interrupted Karlach.  “Better not to get involved.”

Karlach clammed up, frowning.

With no hope of backup, Astarion finally retreated to the bedroom.  Zyn followed at a stalk, not bothering to say anything else.  If she did she’d probably blow up, and she’d rather not do that in front of people.  Appearing chill on the surface was very important to her.  

Probably too important.

Because then people thought they could take advantage of her!

With nowhere else to go, Astarion had sat on the edge of her bed.  Which was fine.  She’d rather loom if at all possible, but switching genders just in case on the way home had put a damper on that.  Tactical gender-switching, just in case the detective was full of shit and was just tracking her in a different way.

Also, Zyn had wanted to be ready to throw a punch.

“Perhaps we could put the scissors down, my dear and very appreciated roommate?”

She stared at him for two seconds, taking in the irritatingly skillful pathetic puppy dog eyes, the hopeful posture…and the barely-contained tension.  He was afraid.  Good.

“I would like to know…” she began, pacing over to set the scissors down on top of her dresser.  Zyn saw Astarion relax slightly out of the corner of her vision.  “How stupid do you think I am?”

“Not at all, of course!  Thank you so much, by the way–”

“No.  So I figured you were, what, in your eighties?  Nineties?  But now I’m starting to think it’s closer to what.  Fifty?  Forty?  Thirty?”

“That…isn’t the question I was expecting,” he admitted, staring at her face intently, as if trying to divine her intent.  “What does my age have to do with anything?”

“Because I’m not sure how someone could live to see their first century and still be such an immature piece of shit.”  Zyn kept her voice even, but when he flinched, some deep desire to bully the little fuck burst right through her self control.  “You fucked up.  You fucked up big time.  And then you ran away from mommy and daddy like a pathetic little coward, didn’t you?”

The woebegone look was gone so quickly she knew it’d been fake, his eyes averting as he reached to rub the back of his head.  “I need space.  I wasn’t expecting this– how could I?”

“This vampire thing is so convenient for you!  One more way to avoid the consequences.”

Astarion rallied, shooting to his feet with a fiercely angry look, jabbing a hand to his chest.  “I didn’t ask to die!”

“But you sure are taking advantage of it,” she scoffed, folding her arms under her tits.  “So either you’re a fucking idiot and you didn’t realize paying with daddy’s money would finger you, or you sent me so I’d be your patsy.  Which is it, Astarion?”

“It–”  He stopped short, and then scowled.  “You’ve left me no response.”

“Which is it, Astarion?!”

He threw up a hand, gesturing at her dismissively and dramatically.  “If I’m stupid then so are you, because I told you it was on my father’s account and you had no qualms!”

Shit.

She glanced down and aside for a moment, until Astarion’s faint look of triumph was noticed out of the edge of her vision.  Zyn whipped her head back up.  “I didn’t know you’d run away from home!”

“Would you stop phrasing it like that!  I have my own home!  I am an adult!”

“So go home!” she snapped at him, throwing up her hands.  “Stop making my life worse!  I got stalked by a fucking private detective, Astarion!  For fuck’s sake!”

[psalacanthea]

Thanks to @tadpole-apocalypse for this amazing icon of Zynatheri 'Zyn' Rivati, the Silver Mockingbird; my Tav.

She's a drow bard I've been playing and writing even before bards were added to the game. <3 Pictured as she deserves to be- like a smug Faerûnian anime villain.

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WiP Wednesday

now that I have a second to breathe, a bit from the upcoming chapter of the Tav x Astarion Modern AU fic (FOUND HERE!). Zyn once again destroying his own flirting because he can't watch her damn mouth.

...

Eventually his repeated stubbornness drove Zyn to snapping, capping the eyeliner with a vengeance and tossing it at Astarion, the small tube bouncing off his chest and falling into the sink between his thighs.

“You have to commit!”

“Your idea of ‘committing’ is practically heels and drag makeup.”

Irritated by his bloody-minded bullshit, Zyn slammed his hands on the mirror to either side of Astarion’s head.  “Malice and Misfortune, stop being so reductive!  You’re not even talented enough to be a drag queen; don’t flatter yourself.”

Catlike, scarlet eyes narrowed at Zyn, arrogance oozing from every word.  “How dare you.”  But there was a hint of something, a little smugness that peeked out.

“I’m sorry, are you irritating me on purpose?” he inquired, shifting from flat hands to forearms, thumping against the tarnished glass.

Their faces, nearly nose-to-nose, were close enough that he could feel Astarion’s breath on his skin when he laughed, self-satisfied.  The moment had become taut, pulled tight, like a string desperate to be played.  Emotions pulled to the surface by arguing bubbled under the surface, wobbling dangerously.

Well, sometimes that was how sexual chemistry went, wasn’t it?

This kind was…messy but fun.

“I don’t like it when you pretend to be nonchalant.  You’re not very good at it,” the bastard replied, lifting a hand to run fingers along his jaw, sliding down towards his neck.  There was a frivolously academic lilt to his voice.  “You’re fascinating, you know.  And all the more intriguing for being so…” His legs tightened around Zyn, dragging them an inch closer together.  “Flexible.”

Zyn was pulled up off his heels.  “Interesting choice of words,” he breathed against Astarion’s skin, arrested by his eyes.

“I like it.”  A hand tucked under Zyn’s chin, lifting his head slightly.  Astarion smirked, pinkie drawing lazily across his throat.  “I can see you…the real you.  It isn’t in the face, or the…”  His eyes flicked down and to the side, playfully.  “Well, what’s between your thighs.  No.  It’s your smile.  The little wrinkle in your brow, and across the bridge of your darling nose.  The little white freckles…under your exquisite moonlight eyes.”

Dumbstruck, feeling abruptly swept up in some violent current, Zyn went briefly silent.  

It felt like a trick.

“And?” he finally asked.

“And I think…”  Fingers nudged lightly to tilt his head, Astarion’s voice going quieter, throatier.  “I think I’d like to kiss you.”

The moment was tense…but too tense.  Instincts galloped to the fore; inappropriate and gleefully glib.  Definitely badly timed as well.

“I knew I’d win eventually.  Don't be a sore loser. Let’s cancel this whole business and go to bed,” Zyn teased as his sense of humor won out over his libido.  

Like always, it backfired.

Astarion instantly leaned back, eyes averting as he gave a faint ‘hmph’.  With a dismissive flick of his hand, he threw Zyn’s head to the side as they parted.  His pinkie nail dug slightly against skin in retreat, leaving a sting.  Ow.  Vampire claws.

Pouting, Zyn jerked his head up.  “Hey!”

"You ruin everything!"

[psalacanthea]

Fanfic Friday

Y'all voted on banters this week! I went for 'end of act 1, in the Underdark' Baldur's Gate 3 banters for the companions and my drow bard Tav, Zynatheri.

There's no only Gale banter because they're not speaking to each other at that point (because Zyn will not stop bullying him).

if you see these and think the idea is fun, I would love to see yours for your Tav or Durge! Just tag me if you do so I can enjoy it! :D

...

Zynatheri: All right.  Shuffled thoroughly back into the deck.  Now, as I call upon the mystic powers of the Talis…are you watching?

Karlach:  Harder than I’ve ever watched before.

Zynatheri: I draw from the very top of the deck, and…Nine of Winds.  Is this your card?

Karlach: Holy shit.  It is!  That’s my card!

Zyn: The cards always know.

Gale:  They most certainly do not.

Karlach:  I didn’t show her the card, Gale.

Zyn: Yeah, Gale, just because the powers are beyond your comprehension doesn’t mean they’re not real.

Gale:  Your provocations fall on deaf ears.  I refuse to succumb to your clumsily strewn bait.

Zyn:  That’s fine.  Karlach, do you want to see another magic trick?

Gale: Stop calling it magic!

Karlach: You ever think of playing music while we battle?

Zyn: Would make casting spells hard.

Karlach:  What about right at the end, then?  When I crack the last skull and then we look for loot.

Zyn:  Like victory music?

Karlach:  Yeah!

Zyn:  Sure, sounds like fun.  Just save me any jewelry you find.

Karlach:  Fuck yeah!

Lae’zel:  You and Wyll fight similarly.

Zyn:  We probably learned the same style of fencing.

Lae’zel:  Why is he more skilled than you are? Was your instruction inferior, or are you?

Zyn:  Insult or observation?

Lae’zel:  If my observations insult you, that is due to your own weakness.  I only speak truth.

Zyn:  No, you speak ignorance, not truth.

Lae’zel:  Explain.  Alleviate my ignorance.

Zyn:  No thanks.

Lae’zel:  Kainyank.

Lae’zel:  During our last battle I asked repeatedly for healing and was ignored.

Zyn:  Sorry, I was feeling too weak and inferior.

Lae’zel:  Ah.  You were attempting an object lesson.

Zyn:  Sure, it was definitely that and not me being petty.

Lae’zel:  Wyll also employs magic, and his blade does not falter as yours does.

Zyn:  Wyll was given magic.  Nothing against him, but it’s true.  I earned mine through hard work, creativity, and talent.

Lae’zel:  That is no excuse to neglect your sword.

Zyn:  Ah, well, see…I’m also lazy.

Zyn:  Where there’s a Wyll, there’s a way.

Wyll:  Not bad, but I have used it before.  What’s wrong with ‘provoke the Blade and suffer its sting’?

Zyn:  The more mottoes the better.  How about ‘if you seek the Blade, be ready to pay’.

Wyll:  It does rhyme.  ‘Anger the Blade, and prepare to pay?’  It’s quite pithy.

Zyn:  Oh, you’re talking about revenge.  I was working from more of an advertisement angle.

Wyll:  (Laughs.) I am not an adventurer for hire, my friend.

Zyn:  I could make a poster that might change your mind…

Wyll:  Hmm.  Show it to me later.

Shadowheart:  I believe I found some of that moss you mentioned.

Zyn:  Great!  I’ll show you how to prepare it tonight.  We’ll just need oil.  I’m going to need some of the eyeshadow for my own uses, though.

Shadowheart:  Since you’re the one teaching me to make it, I assumed as much.

Zyn: Oh, not for me.  I was going to paint all over Astarion’s face while he’s in reverie.  Of course a cock is classic, but a giant glowing eye on his forehead in the dark would look striking.

Shadowheart: (Laughs.) Why are you so terrible?

Zyn:  I’ll save the cock for Gale.  He deserves it.

Astarion:  What were you and Shadowheart whispering about?

Zyn:  You.

Astarion:  Well, naturally, darling.  What about me?  Hopefully not spilling too many intimate secrets…though I wouldn’t blame you, of course.

Zyn:  She was asking me if the giant mole on your face made it difficult for me to kiss you.

Astarion:  The what?

Zyn:  Did you not– okay, calm down. Calm down! It was a joke.

Astarion: Don’t talk to me.

Zyn: My dear, sweet viper.  Please, stop sulking.

Astarion:  I am not sulking.  I simply have no desire to speak to you.  Or look at you.

Zyn:  Such a shame.  I guess Drizzt isn’t sneaking into your tent tonight.

Astarion:  How dare you threaten me!

Zyn:  It works and has no repercussions.

Astarion: Well, yes, but that isn’t the point.

Zyn: I’m teasing you.  Don’t worry.  Just a quick polymorph, and you’ll finally get your hands on the legendary blade Icingdeath.

Astarion: Gods, you ruin everything.

[psalacanthea]

Vampires, Romance, and Other Dead Things- Ch. 5

New chapter of the Astarion x Tav Modern AU fic. Zyn learns (shockingly), that his unwanted vampire spawn squatter has been lying. Who could have predicted that?

...

Zyn was cuffed by the back of his hoodie and dragged towards the door, away from the collection box.  No!  His easy out!

Like a scruffed cat, he flailed, hood falling back, hair tumbling in his face.  “Come on! Get off me!”

“You disrespectful little rat!”

Shit.  

It was Joe.

Ducking down low, he threw an elbow back, hitting a disturbingly solid beer belly with the swing.  Joe gave a loud, offended ‘oof’, smacking him on the back of the head with a meaty hand.  Zyn did some shoulder-checking and slapping, but didn’t make it free until he was all but thrown against the wall, forehead bonking the doorframe.  Spinning around, he yanked his hood up, trying to hide from what brave sunlight managed to pierce down here.  Silver eyes met narrowed, muddy hazel ones.  Glaring up at him, a half-elven man with jowly face and rough complexion smacked his hand against his chest, sending Zyn back against the rough stone wall.  

“I got errands to run, man, come on.”

“You can’t take five minutes out of your– look at me.”  Joe smacked him on the cheek roughly.

Zyn glowered, forcing his attention back.

“You can’t take five minutes out of your day?  You gotta act like you’re too good to be here?”

“You think I want people seeing me here?”  Zyn asked snidely, and got another smack for his trouble, this time a little harder.  With a grimace, he rubbed his aching jaw.  “Keep your hands to yourself.”

“I got an errand for you to run.”

“No,” Zyn snapped, shrugging the man’s hands off of him.  “I’m goin’ inside.  I’m gonna go pray.”

Joe stuck a thick finger in his face.  “You do it properly.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna do it properly.  Lay off me.”

“You get away with a lot of shit, you know.”  Joe lifted his voice as Zyn threw his hands up and stepped inside.  “You get away with a lot!  I wouldn’t put up with this shit from anyone else!”

Zyn stepped into the cool darkness of the shrine of Misfortune, rolling his eyes so hard there was a stab of pain from his aching eyeballs all the way to his brain.  Ow.  Grimacing, he yanked off his sunglasses, rubbing his forehead.   The altar was just a few steps, taking up an entire half of the round room, candles sputtering and flickering, larger offerings besides mere cash stacked up on the altar.  Random bits of gold-plated shit like candlesticks and statuettes, some phones, jewelry, one or two magical items, weapons, even a designer handbag.  It wasn’t about what you gave, it was the fact that it was worth money.

Everything here would just end up pawned at the end of the week; Joe’s family ran a whole chain of pawn shops that laundered anything that wasn’t cold hard cash.

Now that he was in here, there was no more attitude.  Zyn wasn’t going to get himself in trouble just to be a shit.  There were consequences for that.  Above all, he really hated consequences.  Stupid things.

And never proportional!

[psalacanthea]

WiP Wednesday

I've started writing again! Still quite ill, so it's slow going, but at least the pilot light's back on. You can have a little bit from the Astarion x Tav Modern AU fic. You can find the fic in question HERE

i do love my bitchy banter.

...

Zyn watched Wyll go lazily, not really listening to the conversation.  It washed over him, just noise, the only thing expected of him the occasional smile.  In a lot of ways, being an artist was superior.  You could be an asshole and people would make excuses for you.

Because frankly, he didn’t really want to be here at all– not in this bar, not in this situation, not in fucking Baldur's Gate.

“Pay attention to me.”

“Mmh?” Zyn’s drowsy question was truncated by a rather rude shove at his face, forcing him to look to his left.  He squinted an eye at Astarion, lifting his beer.  Wait, was he still here?  “Oh, I thought you went with Wyll.”

“No.  Why is Shadowheart so upset with you?  What did you do?”

That was a fair question.  “She thought if she got me to do the show, I’d care.”

“You’d think she’d know by now.”  Astarion laughed at his helpless shrug, leaning against Zyn’s shoulder.  “Poor thing.  I know you didn’t want to come and be adored, but at least it’s over now.”  The mockery in his voice was sharp.

Still, even fake sympathy was good.  Nodding in agreement, Zyn leaned into the vampire, getting a condescending pat on the head before Astarion slung his arm across his shoulders.  He might have been making fun, but it was true.  Now that he was off stage the ennui was sinking in.

At least they still had people to murder tonight if things went well; that would be fun.

The woman he’d been chatted at by was apparently still there, voice cutting through the noise.  “My friend and I were wonder–”

Astarion leaned around him, voice taking on a sing-song mockery.  “I’ve already claimed him, dear.  But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find something to crawl into.”

“That was so harsh.  Come on,” Zyn said, pulling a long frown as he sat up.  Not that he meant it or cared, but he was the nice one so it was expected. “She was just asking a question.”

“Oh, please.  Don’t act as if you won’t get distracted by the first thing that bats her pretty little eyes at you,” Astarion said, voice turning particularly snide on the last handful of words.  The pettiness of it was endlessly amusing.

Zyn wrinkled his nose, fighting back a smile.  “I can talk to more than one person, can’t I?”

“You?  No.  I have no choice but to force you to give me what I deserve, or you’ll lose focus and wander off to try and be the center of attention somewhere else.”  He pointed to himself, punctuating his demanding words.  “This is where your attention belongs.  Come now.  Don’t self-sabotage again, hmm?”

Arrogant as that was, the bastard had a point.

A voice cut in, for some reason.  “Wow. You don’t have to be so ru–”

They cut her off in tandem, Zyn’s head whipping around, Astarion leaning to glance past his shoulder at the forgotten girl.

“Sorry, could you excuse us?  He’s kind—”

“Could you be a dear and shut up?” The last two words snapped viciously, silencing Zyn.

The woman reared back, staring at Astarion with wide eyes.  The shock faded quickly, leaving behind a scornful, irritated look.  “Bitch.”

Astarion laughed, high and mocking.  “The bitch, thank you very much!  You can’t compete.  Run along back to the minor leagues, darling.”  He flapped a hand dismissively.

For some reason, the woman was staring at Zyn.  He wasn’t sure why.  Well, that was a lie– he knew exactly why.  He was just pretending he didn’t.  “Glad you enjoyed the show.  Tell your friend I say thanks, too.”  He turned his attention back to Astarion.  “There.  Better?”

If he was giving up a threesome for this demanding asshole, it'd better be worth it.

“No, you hurt my feelings by not looking for me first.  Make up for it,”  Astarion said.

Zyn fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Still, he kept it off his face and out of his voice, flashing a lopsided, devil-may-care sort of smile. “Of course I looked for you first.  When I was on stage…you were all I could see.”  He waited a beat to let it sink in.  “You’re practically reflective now.”

“You…absolute…!”  Astarion smacked him on the chest, leaning over him as Zyn fell to the side, laughing.  “I actually liked that one, and you ruined it!”

[psalacanthea]

Fanfic Friday- Escape

since Astarion x Tav was chosen, and this week my health has not been great, I dug up a bit of my post-canon Tav x Ascended Astarion that needed some finishing and polishing. 2kish, SFW, but sad

Despite what she’d told herself, the valiant promises she’d made, now that the moment was here she felt useless.  Worthless.  Weak.

Zynatheri couldn’t kill Astarion.

She sat in silence in the darkness, tears trickling down her cheeks.  The day had finally come.  When that moment had passed she doubted if he had even realized it.  It was the first rule he’d promised her, so long ago, and he’d finally broken it.

The conversation had been stupid, another argument like the ones he picked near-constantly now.  She was feeling trapped, restless.  He was refusing to let her go, yet again, arguing with her over why she kept ‘leaving’ him.  Last time she’d backed down, and that had been her mistake.

Gale’s words never left her, his warnings.  And she knew that next time she backed down, she’d never stop, until there was none of her wants left, none of her needs.  None of her happiness.  A trapped pet, kept at his feet forever just like he wanted.  Except then she wouldn’t be herself any more, she wouldn’t be who he claimed to love.

But they’d had the arguments before, and Astarion never seemed to realize they were escalating like she did.  Because he only pushed a little more, and a little more every time. Tiny sacrifices she made for his stability and happiness, again and again, as he slowly backed her to the edge of the cliff.

Her line she never wanted to cross had been crossed, and now she'd slipped off that edge and plunged into the darkness she'd feared for so long.

He’d demanded they go to bed and stop talking, and she’d said no.

She’d said no.

And that no had enraged him.

In his temper, he'd dragged her to the stone vault below the castle and sealed her in. She'd screamed at him, fought with him the whole way, hoping if she showed enough emotion he'd stop. Zyn had never truly believed he'd do it-- for hours after the door had sealed closed she waited for him to open it, to laugh at her for being afraid, to pick her up and carry her to bed.

He never came.

Astarion had done to her what Cazador had done to him.

She had no doubt that in less than a day he would let her out, but...the line had been crossed. It couldn't be un-crossed. She knew that now. He would back down sometimes, but he would never show regret, and once a boundary had been broken he always made it the new normal.

She would be locked down here again, and again, and again...as long as she continued to fight him.

And one day he would leave her here until she became like he had been so long ago; afraid, cowering, broken.

No.

It was over.

For weeks now she’d always kept Gale’s gifts close to hand, since the arguments and her restlessness had been getting worse.  The scroll had been folded up tightly, a little rumpled from how many times she’d unfolded it.  Stared at it.  Thought about using it, feeling the magic contained crackling under her fingertips.  Then she’d hidden it back under the pile of magic baubles covered in gems that she didn’t want.

It was in her pocket now with the amulet.

That necklace was a heavy weight, but somehow lighter than the one around her neck.  She’d never taken it off since the day he gave it to her, but it was time.  Somehow unclasping the chain felt like the final goodbye, the point of no return.  She stared at the tarnished silver, tears spilling onto it.

It was over.

They hadn’t even gotten a lifetime.

But the man she loved was gone now, subsumed by what she’d helped him become.  Gale was right, there had been a price, a terrible price for Astarion’s freedom.  If she was a good person, she’d kill him now so he could never make anyone else suffer.  But she wasn’t.

The amulet Gale had given her rested against her breastbone with a solid, comforting weight, the chain draping over her head.  For an hour she sat, breathing shallowly, her eyes closed as she focused on it.  She could feel the magic inside, safe, secure, shrouding.  Protection from scrying eyes.

It felt like casting off an old life for a new one.

When she roused from her brief trance, not a thing in the vault had changed.  And when he came to fetch her, Astarion would pretend they hadn’t argued, call her boring if she brought it up again.  Nothing would be fixed, nothing would change.  It would just slowly get worse.

And so would she.

She would just become a worse, and worse person.

Zyn had no clothes, no pack, no money.  Only the scroll and the amulet– only a way out.  She didn’t even have her lute– Irilen’s lute.  That was the part that hurt most of all.

For so long she’d prided herself on being fiercely independent, and this was what she’d been reduced to.  Throwing herself on Gale’s mercy with nothing to her name.  But at least she knew he would catch her.

At least she knew he was still her friend no matter how horrible of one she had been.

Zyn left the necklace on the floor and didn’t say goodbye.  No last kiss.  No dramatic gesture, not this time.  She was drained of them, empty at last from everything Astarion demanded of her.  Fed from her.

Unfolding the scroll one last time, she finally used it.

And then she was gone.

For what must have been hours she’d sat and sobbed, alone in the room atop Gale’s tower, huddled in the center of the teleportation circle.

Regret, fear, pain, they washed over her in waves, again and again.  She was almost glad she’d had only one scroll, that the door was sealed.  So many moments she would have gone back, to try and erase this monumental mistake she was making.  But she couldn’t go back.

It was over.

She’d exhausted herself of tears more than once, each time thinking she had no more.  Her lips were dry, cheeks damp, eyes aching.  A pathetic, hateful mess.  And even still, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to send to Gale.  Maybe she’d just let herself starve here, wasting away in the corner of his tower.

At least when he found her body someone might mourn her.

Selfish, petty, vicious thoughts seemed to be the only ones she had any more, and all of them were attacking her now with no other target.  She’d betrayed the only person who knew her and still loved her.  A disgusting, vile little traitor.

She’d been so sure when she’d left, but now that she was here she couldn’t feel strong.  And not only in an ephemeral sense– she was shaking from how weak her body was.  Fool.  She’d been such a fool to starve herself for attention like that.  Why was she so-

Stop.

She had to stop spiraling.

Logically, if she died here, it would be cruel and selfish.  The smartest thing she could do right now was send to Gale, and then when she’d gotten out of here…leave.  Take her idiocy and her problems and leave, so that she wouldn’t burden him with them.  It was too cruel to let him find her body.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in and gathered what of her strength she could to find his mind, praying he wouldn’t hate her.  “I’m here.”

The seconds of silence following her sending slipped by with painful slowness.

“I’m coming.  I’m coming right away, Mockingbird.  Stay there, please.  Just stay there.”

The voice was a relief, a flood of it coursing through her so intensely that she nearly blacked out.  She was so lightheaded.  Even if she’d tried to stand right now, Zyn probably couldn’t.

In a daze, she lay against the wall, head dropping down to her knees.

Time passed, though how much she didn’t know.

She heard the sounds of arguing long before she could make out the words, a familiar sort of noise.  By the time she could pick out voices, they were just beyond the door.  It was thick and heavy, and muffled most of it.  But her hearing was acute.

“-can’t keep being so capricious like this!  People are depending on you!  This is going to severely impact-”

“I have no time for this right now,” Gale interrupted, the other male voice cut off.  “I’m sorry, love, but some things must take precedence over politics and power plays.”  The door was opening, and she was simultaneously chagrined and grateful.

Gods, it’d been three years, and she’d just shown up like this in the middle of his life.

An interruption.

What was she doing, why was she so-

The door opened and he rushed through it, and their eyes met as she lifted her heavy head from her knees.  The pain and worry– the flash of terror on his face– broke her heart all over again, tears she’d thought herself too exhausted for spilling down her cheeks.  He was still for only a moment, and then he came for her.  She knew she shouldn’t, she was an interloper, but as he reached for her she lifted her arms, wrapped them around him.

Gale pulled her into a tight embrace.  “It’s all right, you’re safe now.  You’re safe, Mockingbird, I promise you that.  I will keep you safe, from now until forever.”

Shaking, she just buried herself against him and cried like a child as he cradled and reassured her.  Her body didn’t want to believe him, but she’d been on edge for so long and was so exhausted from it that gradually she collapsed into the comfort he was offering.  She didn’t understand how he could give it to her, after the way he’d treated her last time.

No.

After the way she’d treated him.

It was time to stop lying to herself, and face what she'd become.

His voice was only comforting despite what a loathsome snake she was, warm and low and steady.  “It’s all right.  I promise.  Did he harm you?  Are you hurt?  Is anything broken?”

She shook her head violently, and he let out a long sigh of relief.

“Hurt…Gale, what exactly is going on here?” the unfamiliar voice asked.

She refused to open her eyes and see what it was, fingers twisting in, clutching Gale tighter with a surge of pathetic selfishness.  He was all she had.  She wasn’t going to let him go for anyone.

“We’ll talk about it soon, love.  This is my friend Zynatheri, I told you about her,” Gale replied.  And then he stood up, pulling her into his arms, up against his chest.  “I’ll take you somewhere you can rest, Mockingbird.  Are you all right?  You’re skin and bones.”

“He wouldn’t let me leave, so I stopped eating,” she whispered, ashamed by her petulant little starvation temper tantrum.  It sounded so childish to say it out loud.  Everything sounded so much worse when said to people who weren’t them.

No one understood them.

Gale sighed, heavy and sad

“I’ll go fetch a healer,” the other voice said, but it was tense, tight.

“Thank you, love.”

Although she wanted nothing more than to stay, she had to admit her failure.  She’d made Gale a promise, and she knew that breaking promises meant punishment.  If he sent her away, it was only right.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t kill him.”

Gale was walking, the motion gently rocking her as he cradled her in his arms.  “I know.  You’ve done enough, you are safe.  I will carry you from here, Mockingbird.  I will protect you.”

He was still talking to her as he carried her out, but after that she couldn’t puzzle any of it out.  Her head was too muddy, body and heart exhausted with next to nothing left.  It wasn’t quite a faint, it was more a fog.  She was aware of being tucked into a bed, a hand rested on her forehead, a kiss on the top of her head.

And then everything got blurrier.

Even now, the last things she thought and felt were for Astarion, fear and worry. He must be so upset to find her gone. Hurt, lost, alone...like she'd promised he'd never be again. He'd be so lonely.

How could she have done this to him?

Exhaustion kept pulling on her, dragging her into the darkness of unaccustomed sleep, and eventually even her self-loathing and torment could not resist it.

She was safe.

But Zynatheri didn't deserve it.

[psalacanthea]

Vampires, Romance, and Other Dead Things- Chapter 1

sigh. I really can't stay away from a modern au. This will hopefully be a regular novel-length fic instead of a monster. Modern+magic Tav x Astarion, set in Baldur's Gate. Here's the fic!

...

Luckless, aimless, and quite fine with that, Zynatheri's neatly ordered and lazy life is thrown into chaos when she stumbles across Astarion bloody and beaten in an alleyway.

Drunk and confused, she rescues him and dragging him home to sleep on her couch...only for them to realize the next morning that she didn't save his life after all. He's dead now. UN-dead.

Unfortunately, behind a vampire spawn there's always a true vampire, and if he wants to stay free Astarion is going to need some help. While Zyn's irritating friends seem more than happy to help, she's not quite so certain. He's messy, entitled, rude, demanding, and selfish. And to top it off, he's incredibly dramatic. That's HER job!

Zyn would much rather bed the annoying patriar, dump him somewhere in Upper City, and wash her hands of it, but no. Her best friend Wyll's hungry for adventure, determined to rescue another monster from a worse monster. Do-gooders. Just the worst.

And if that weren't bad enough, the irritating(ly attractive) spawn won't leave her apartment.

What's she supposed to do, keep him?

...

“I’m having a bit of an urgent situation here, if you don’t mind.”

“Mhmm,” Zyn mumbled absently, squirting toothpaste into her mouth.  She brushed, spat, and rinsed.  He tapped his foot the entire time.  She straightened up and raked her hair back out of her face.  “I don’t have a spare toothbrush.”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

“You should, it’s important to–” she glanced over her shoulder again, un-blurred eyes finally taking him in.  Oh.  That’s why she’d let him into her apartment.

His face was long, a little too aristocratic for her liking, but with a very pretty mouth and devastatingly attractive eyes, despite the colo– wait.  Narrowing hers, Zynatheri peered into the stranger’s scarlet eyes.  Red eyes.  On an eladrin.

“Are you half drow?”

He drew himself up, looking offended.  Still disheveled, though.  “How dare you.”

“Don’t be a bi–” She stopped.  Wait.  His eyes had been a different color last night.  Her eyes flickered down to his burned hand.  Burned.  Red eyes.  He’d been standing behind her when she– 

Zyn turned back around, staring into the spotty, tarnished mirror.

Only her own reflection gazed back, the doorway behind her empty.  Shit.  All right, so she’d invited a vampire into her house.  Fine, fine, that was fine.  But why had he tried to go out in the su–

“So weird question, but those guys that jumped you last night.  Did one of them bite you?”

“What are you– yes, if you must know.”

She bent down.  “Look in the mirror.”

There was silence from behind her for a good few seconds, as the stranger had a Revelation.  Not wanting to waste time, Zyn took the opportunity to wash her face, including the vestiges of last night’s makeup.  Whoops.  Neh.  If he tried to bite her he probably didn’t know how, so a swift kick to the balls should settle things.

Zynatheri grabbed her hand towel blindly and yanked it down.

Luckily she knew a lot of people who were probably okay with being bit by a vampire spawn, but as far as she knew usually spawns weren’t just…able to escape like this.  Probably better to hand him off to someone and be done with it before the big one came to claim him.  If he really was a spoiled little patriar, his family would probably figure it out.

“Shit,” he said from behind her, voice hushed.

[psalacanthea]

Dissonance and Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- Chapter 20

New chapter in the Astarion x Tav fic! In which Zynatheri has a bad case of the morbs, and Astarion happily plays the devil on her shoulder. Sometimes you don't need to be cheered up. Sometimes you just need to be sad as indulgently as possible.

...

Zyn took one last look at the night sky,  eyes scanning the glittering lights that rippled across the canvas of darkness.  A beautiful vista.  So vast and mysterious, full of worlds and wonders never beheld by the ignorant creatures of Toril.  Somewhere, out among those pinprick lights that chased the moon across the teeming sky, where spelljammers and astral ships moored, githyanki were fucking.

Just up there in the sky somewhere, going at it, all snarling and writhing, insulting each other.  They wouldn’t just have sex, though, it would be a fight for dominance.  Claws and teeth and maybe some insults. Dick-biting. If you–

Wyll’s abrupt, coughing laugh interrupted her mental tangent, Zyn’s head whipping around as he bent forward.  Utterly lost, she stared at him, surprised by the vehemence of his laughter. She usually knew when she’d made a joke.  

Zyn was actually very good at them, but, “what did I say?”

“I’ve…never felt your mind before,” Wyll admitted, straightening up with a broad grin still on his face.  “That was beautiful…until the last bit there, obviously.  Truly, to be in the mind of a bard is a lyrical experience.”

Oh gods.

Feeling violated, but tamping it down because she didn’t know why she’d done that, Zyn stared at Wyll in fear.  This was her fault, and she’d done it.  She tried to push back the dismay quickly, glancing away, but she knew he’d seen it.

“I'm not upset with you, I just don't like that.”

“Haven’t you figured out how to do it on purpose by now?  I apologize.  If I’d known it was accidental I wouldn’t have said anything.”

Shit.  She’d just been ignoring it, erasing it from the narrative because it made her so profoundly uncomfortable, but she couldn’t any more.  They were in each other’s heads.

The sheer violation of it made her skin crawl.

Zyn needed to know how bad it was.  “You all mentioned it…happening before, like it was normal.  But eventually you stopped talking about it, and…well, it’s only happened to me once, with Lae’zel, and it scared the shit out of me.  You really do it all the time?”

“On purpose?  Some of us more than others.  It can be useful,”  Wyll said, red eye peering down at her as he tilted his head.  “I’d  assumed you had stronger walls ‘round your mind than the rest of us.”

“I do.  I don’t like things in my head,” she said, grimacing.  “When you play tricks on other people you don’t want them to be played on you!” And she knew people who scried, of course.  And read minds.  Gods, if only she could afford an anti-scrying amulet– well, maybe this unwanted venture would yield some benefits.

If she didn’t die.

“Well, I hope that I didn’t make you uncomfortable, and it was nice to see you open up a little.”

Zyn stared at him in frank disbelief.

Wyll's eyes crinkled as he turned to face her, leaning down a little.  “What?”

“How are you this good in so many ways?  Aren’t you exhausted?  I would be!  I accidentally think…and sorry by the way, for that mental image of Lae’zel and that Voss person having sex.”

Wyll folded his arms.  “Why was that your choice, I wonder?”

“I don’t know a lot of githyanki?” she replied, shrugging at his understanding nod.  “But seriously, what is wrong with you?  Genuinely.  It has to be something really bad.  Like eating babies.”

“Are you lobbing accusations at Gale’s cooking?"