#fcllxn-stcr

[silvertiefling]

&&. @fcllxn-stcr (closed)

The morning light was peaking through the clouded skies of Baldur's Gate when Katya opened the doors to her tavern, airing out the stale smell of ale and smoke from within as her pack cleaned up inside from the night previous. A daily ritual that didn't suffer from much variation except for the occasional guest that was too stubborn to leave.

Which so happened to also be today's issue - though the guest in question was unusual in their appearance with their white fur, wings and drowsy red eyes. But this tiny guest was not a person, no. This little one was a bat - one that looked somewhat unwell, or as if it was having a hard time flying.

Far more welcomed than the usual drunks that haunted her door.

She frowned at the little bat laying on top of an empty barrel right outside her door and knelt down to get a better look at it (after making sure no one was watching)- trying to see if it was sick or injured. Or perhaps just tired.

" Hello, little bat... "

[bloodyarn]

@fcllxn-stcr @estarion

       ❝ Oh . . . he is talking to the mirror again . . . ❞

[indomiinus]

@fcllxn-stcr // continued from here

Leon was, to be quite frank, lost.

While that normally wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him given his history, this was a new kind of lost. This was a "woke up on an alien space ship and got flung out of it during a crash and I'm in a new continent" lost. This was also a "there's some monster in my brain" lost.

He had been wandering with real, genuine purpose for a while though, several days in fact, and he had only seen a handful of people since then. And none of them had seemed all that friendly - or helpful - when he tried to explain his situation to them in search of a cure. Currently, the town he'd been stuck in had been nice enough, though wholly unhelpful regarding a cure.

And he should have been moving on, but instead, there he was, talking to someone he didn't know and asking them for help.

Leon had simply walked blindly toward the stranger without a second thought. Something had drawn his eye to the man, the worm in his brain signalling the other to be potentially helpful in a variety of ways. And that there was something familiar about him. It was a weird, unsettling feeling of an alien connection, and he was regretting even saying anything at all now.

It felt too much like he was giving into its whims somehow, but... he couldn't argue that it would be nice to meet someone with a similar problem to himself.

At least he wouldn't feel so damned alone.

Leon placed a hand on his chest, bowing his head in greeting and an attempt to be polite despite his impulsive exclamation a moment ago.

He straightened, hand falling to his side. Gold eyes met crimson and he continued, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. "I-- sorry. I just--" He sucked down a breath and gestured vaguely. "I'm sorry for the suddenness of this, but, something tells me you're in a similar situation to myself. Are you, by any chance, a survivor of that alien contraption that crashed several days ago?"

He looked at him almost hopefully, his brain feeling uncomfortably itchy as he pushed back its attempt to try and connect.

[shadovan]

@fcllxn-stcr (cont.)

"Can you... keep me?" Astarion was caught off guard. "Well... That depends, I suppose. Not that I'm overly keen on being kept as if I'm someone's pet, as you could imagine."

The elf's brow furrowed as he gave a little thought. Of course, not every scenario in his mind was a bad one, but being Cazador's pawn for as long as he was... It was hard not to imagine.

"Say, hypothetically, if I were to say yes, what's in it for me?"

Well, perhaps that hadn't been the best wording. Especially not tossed about at someone who had likely had endured a less than pleasant history of being 'kept,' but oft times the words slipped out of Tareque's mouth before he could filter them. Such as it was. Fortunately, Astarion merely looked more confused than offended... or so he hoped.

Oh, was he actually playing along?

The corners of the lich's lips quirked, pleased. There were so many things he could say, most of them lewd and highly inappropriate, but... there was a time and place for that sort of commentary, and even Tareque recognized that. (Contrary to the belief of most.)

"Ah, anything in my power to grant you," he promised, because what more could he offer than that? At least genuinely. -- Then, with a chuckle and a soft smile, Tareque shook his head, "Be calm... I merely jest. Not that I would object, of course. I am no fool."

Sitting back in the air as casually as one might in a chair, he lit his pipe, looking at the elf with curiosity for a long moment. "What would you ask for, if you could?"

[dulcetfanged]

She took a swig, wiped her mouth, and offered the jar of red to him.

- ̗̀ ఇ ∬ — @fcllxn-stcr liked for a one-liner. ̖́-

[never-surrender]

[ HUSH ]: as a means of getting the receiver to stay quiet, the sender covers their mouth and ends up shoving them into a wall in their urgency. (For Halsin)

Why they had sent Halsin along with Astarion on a mission where stealth was required, he wasn't entirely certain... but here he was. Crouched and waiting for Astarion's cue, Halsin hurries back to the elf's side, breath coming out in short pants as he struggled to maintain the stealth they needed. "Should I-"

Before he could finish the sentence, Astarion was upon him, hand covering his mouth and his body pressed back to the wall. With a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, not all of them tame, Halsin stared at Astarion, acutely aware of the rogue's body pressed against his own...

Though the moment passes as Astarion releases his hold... and rather than asking and risking this to happen yet again, Halsin simply wild shapes into a mouse, scampering into Astarion's pocket

[alittlebitofmuse]

[ TIDY ]: the sender reaches forward and lightly sweeps something from the receiver's shoulder. (For Halsin)

[ TIDY ]: the sender reaches forward and lightly sweeps something from the receiver's shoulder.

Each magic wielder's spells looked different. Some possessed magic that glowed like moonlight, while the magic of others surged sickly green. Halsin's magic shined a brilliant gold, and depending on the intensity of the spell, it would produce a whirlwind of leaves -- a gentle reminder of the Oak Father's blessings upon him.

When the Archdruid reverted from his wild shape, the warm gold glow engulfed him as a bear then erupted in a flurry of leaves, leaving the large elf in its place, finding his balance on two feet. He was so used to this transformation, to the light and the leaves, that he sometimes forgot about the accompanying spectacle.

This was one of those times, as he staggered forward on two humanoid feet once more, straightening his back and rolling his shoulders, returning to the form of a man. Leaves rained down around him, catching in his hair and on his armor. A battle hard-fought and hard-won, he thought with a heavy sigh as he took in the number of bodies of their fallen enemies.

He turned to see his companions approaching, looking battered and bruised but otherwise in one piece. He sighed again, this time from relief, as he moved toward them to better assess injuries.

Astarion was closest and therefore, the first person to receive the healer's scrutiny -- but before Halsin could inquire about his well-being, the other elf reached out, brushing some of the leaves from the Archdruid's shoulder. Halsin chuckled softly -- a few stray leaves should be the least of the other's concern -- but he found a sense of comfort from the gesture, and he offered a smile to show his gratitude.

" Are you injured? " he asked, studying the vampire spawn's face -- a relatively hopeless effort with the well-worn mask the other man kept in place.

[estarion]

He keeps hearing there's a desk involved. So he perches himself there looking pretty.

　　　this one can stay. he gives a quick glance down the hall in both directions before closing and locking the door ... . . .

[maythedicerollinmyfavor]

@fcllxn-stcr continued from here

"True, true..." Gale said with a bit of a nod, hands clasped behind his back as he stood and chatted with his companion. "You cannot change what you've done in the past, and no amount of forgiving yourself will ever fully heal you."

"But you can go forward making better choices. For yourself, for those around you. That's something called personal growth. Not something I've ever been very good at myself. But, I do believe you can."

[bloodyarn]

@fcllxn-stcr @estarion

     Squishes herself between these two. How dare you spend all your attention on . . . yourself (?)

[bloodczar]

"I did miss that face, you know?" 😘💕

❛ 𝐈’d kiss myself if it wasn’t so — awkward but I must admit we look dashing 。 ❜

[silvertiefling]

"You know, I hear bats are good luck. :3"

(Not really bad advice... Maybe, but more him just trying make it easier on himself XD)

Come into my inbox and give my muse some bad advice!

" Guess I just gotta keep my new little bat around forever then? "

[grief-worn]

🌸  to  offer  my  muse  a  flower.

Nothing good ever comes from a conversation with Astarion. It's one of life's hard truths, and one she's committed to memory since day one of suffering in his presence. They don't see eye-to-eye. They barely see eye-to-anything, actually. What's that old adage about oil and water?

Simply put, she doesn't like him. But, she will tolerate him. For this, for their cause, for their very lives at stake. She's petty, and maybe a touch too rude at times, but she's not so immature as to let her own personal differences jeopardize a mission so impending.

That doesn't mean she can't have a bit of fun.

There's no missing that dramatized roll of her eyes the instant he makes his way over. She's in the middle of arranging her things; a prayer mat, her incense burner, and a gently-worn idol of Shar, pocketed from an old ruin they had sniffed their way through just earlier in the week.

As he stands before her, she lets loose a derisive scoff, sparing no ounce of patience for the pale man. Just the very sight of him sets her on edge, and she isn't entirely sure she can only blame this on his personality.

"Whatever your problem is, I'm not interested in hearing it. I'm quite excited to enjoy my evening without the company of some pompous tartlet." Shadowheart says this with head held high, and chest puffed forward. She won't be swayed by his ministrations, no matter how much he bats those obnoxious puppy eyes.

"… are you deaf? I told you to get lost, Astari —" She's cut off, eyes zipping to something outstretched, cleverly snatching her attention to its blossoms.

Pinched between his fingers is a bundling of cute, yellow flowers, like dollops of buttercream atop a thick, green stem. A tansy stalk. They like to crop up in meadows and lightly wooded abodes, quite common, and quite lovely.

If memory serves correct (though it so often fails her) the symbolism of such a plant is evocative of the immortal. Occasionally used to wish long life and protection. Could be a sweet notion, if that's what he intends.

But it's other, much more common, meaning is that of war. A declaration of hostility. The sort of thing you tie to a flaming arrow before letting it fly straight towards your enemy's head. Blatantly insulting.

Knowing Astarion, it could mean either thing entirely. Or, he's just trying to mess with her. Gods, how intolerable.

"… and this is? Did you find this in the trash, or something?" Shadowheart wrinkles her nose, clearly perplexed by his objective. "I'm not a butterfly. I have no use for such a thing." She lets her stare fall back to its colors, such dainty flaxen hues. They'd look much better adorning his ear, she thinks. And quickly destroys this thought. "Give it to Gale. Maybe he'll write a poem about it."

[muunsick]

It was always impressed onto Eden that gambling was a sin. Chance was a mistress who so rarely expressed mercy, and even less so towards those who sought to exploit her for selfish gain. No, Eden had never been one to hedge bets on something so flimsy as luck. Time and time again they've been proven humble by the repercussions of such a folly.

So, it was rightfully out of their character to be standing where they were now. Clutching a pair of scissors, quaking, all pale in the face and clammy under the collar.

Gambling was a sin. And there was no gamble riskier than asking Astarion for help.

There weren't exactly a lot of options they could choose from. Karlach would burn them bald within seconds, Lae'zel would sooner flay the skin from their bones than humor such a trivial request, Gale would find some way to spin the night into a long-winded anecdote on his lost love, and Shadowheart had something you could barely call a haircut.

They supposed it might be worth asking Wyll, but he's been especially bleak since sprouting horns and infernal anatomy just a night prior. Best to leave him to brood peacefully.

Alas, there would be no use in delaying the inevitable. Either it would work or it wouldn't. The best they might dare to hope for is a snap of teeth and a stern warning to keep their distance. Though Astarion has made it abundantly clear he holds preference towards dealing matters with a swift knife to the flesh. May the gods protect them.

With a surge of bravery, (aided by a lofty swig of wine swallowed down before coming) they made way towards the vampire's tent.

He was situated where he most often chose to perch. Browsing the worn and yellowed pages of some dusty tome, lounging amongst his belongings. His expression, tempered and practiced, gave away nothing. Not the barest indication of his mood or intent. Maybe they were catching him on a good night … but, if they must be honest, this entire week had been nothing but terrible nights. At least, for them.

Eden softly implored his attention with the clearing of their throat, iron shears held plainly in their left hand, clutched against their gut.

"Astarion, hey, good evening, hope you're enjoying the night." Words hastily tumbled out, barely held together. This man terrified them to their core, and he knew it. "Couldn't help but notice you're not occupied … or, er, I mean, you're obviously reading. But—" Oh, they'd better just come right out with it.

"Okay, do you know how to cut hair? I don't … know who else to ask … and I messed up my good hand today climbing those rocks." Almost accentuating their point, their shaggy mop of a hairstyle flopped askew, obscuring eyes and nose.

Thinking on their feet, they opted to preen the vampire, just a bit. He seemed to enjoy vanity, and it wouldn't hurt to sweeten their selfish plea, just a mote. "Your hair is always so lovely. I always catch you brushing it—" Oh, gods. "Not that I watch you all the time! Uhh, oh, fish shit …"

Eden hung their head, that wispy tail curled tight around their calf. "Can you help?"

@fcllxn-stcr

[venusofrapture]

"I heard there'll soon be a new star."

⊹ ˚ . ♡ ┆・STARTERS from AMÉLIE  ━ !

" That's right. " She hummed with a sweet, little smile, amusement occupying her features and giving her stare a playful glint. Blue eyes flitted from the theater front, regal and elegant, to the pale, young man standing amid the street, wondering in a fleeting curiosity who this was and why it was possessing his attention. Maybe he was just aimlessly inquisitive, as the posters flaunting her likeness were recently plastered in desperate declaration across the theater as, the saying does go, the show must go on. She didn't glance back to him then as she soaked in the radiant esteem the promotional flyers made her feel. Her smile was easy, gleaming pearls behind the gentle crest of ruby red lips.

" And you're looking at her. "

[iron-hearts-ablaze]

How attractive are you? Stolen from @fcllxn-stcr

"Was there ever any fucking doubt? Suck it, Astarion."