#platonic wyll ravenguard

[parvulous-writings]

Miasma // Halsin x Reader

Summary: Halsin's rescue of Thaniel goes drastically wrong. Gender Neutral reader (they/them pronouns where they had to be used)

Warnings: Angst, character death, no resolution/comfort. Depictions of grief, anger. Violence. Wonky pacing, maybe? Unresolved ending, also - sorry for the hurt in advance!

Words: 3.7K

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

"The magic is delicate." Halsin had warned - the words now rang in your mind like a knell. "I will need your help if I am to survive- the portal will sap my strength." You had vowed to aid him - to defend the portal that Silvanus had helped him to create. And you had tried. You'd thrown almost every spell that you knew into the shrouded, cursed dark that surrounded your party and the portal, done near everything you could think of to keep the danger at bay. But, somehow, it wasn't enough. Something had gotten through your defenses, though you could barely recall what exactly it was. An arrow? A crow, touched and warped by shadow? The more you dwelled upon the thought, the more your chest began to tighten. What did it matter, what it was that ruptured the portal and caused it's premature collapse? No matter the form of the assailant, it did nothing to change the chain of events that had since then transpired. A gentle voice breaks you from your spiralling thoughts; "At least he is with Lady Shar, if nothing else..." You feel your face contort into a scowl at Shadowheart's words - Halsin was not a worshipper of Shar, why would he be happy that he is with the lady of sorrow? If anything, you thought, it would enrage him that the one who's shadows had laid claim to him, was the one he would be 'with'. But you say nothing to Shadowheart, you know for a fact that the only things that would pass your lips would be words of venomous spite. Not that you didn't like Shadowheart - you were actually quite fond of her, she usually would say things how they were, without sugar-coating them. But in this instance, using the name of Lady Shar to try and bring you some false comfort only made you feel worse.

The trek back to camp was coated in a stony silence. The rest of the party were waiting for you to say something, some words of wisdom or hope, but you said nothing. You did not wish to speak. All you wanted to do was ignore the grief that had settled into your heart. To shove it down, and ignore it. But you couldn't. You and Halsin had become close after you and your rag-tag team of friends had saved the Emerald Grove from the goblins. He had given you advice on how to get to Moonrise Towers, and had offered his aid on the journey. Of course, you had said yes - initially because you knew you'd need all the help that you could get, but as time wore on, and you spent night after night talking with him, you couldn't deny the fact that it was starting to feel like something more was blooming between the pair of you - and Halsin refused to deny it either. Though nothing between you and the druid had been made official to the others, he had told you time and time again; 'When I have righted what has been wronged, and the Shadow curse lifted... Then, we can focus on one another, my heart.' You had thought about those words often - they had spurred you on when you had first entered the shadow cursed lands, knowing that this, this was the place where you could finally end Halsin's century of distress, and fretting.

And yet it had all gone wrong in an instant.

The silence had followed your group into camp, and settled itself amongst you all as if it were a friend, and not some unwanted and unwelcome state. Even Astarion had stopped his quipping and teasing upon seeing your dour expression. He had never seen you in such a state - not even when he had accidentally woken you when he had gone to feed on you one night, almost three months ago at this point. That night you had been mildly disgusted initially, but you were definitely willing to let him feed from you if it was going to help his prowess in battle. You had been optimistic, in truth, despite the dangers. That was something about you that was always apparent, and always had been. Though some of your travelling companions had thought you... Not all there, at first, you had managed to prove quite a few times that you were persistent enough to almost always pull through.

You had made a direct line for your tent, ignoring the attempts of Karlach to approach you, and hopefully comfort you a little bit. The fabric flaps drew together behind you as you retired to your one place of isolation. The tiefling was confused, and a mite hurt, at the fact that you had just completely blanked her. You had never done that before - the worst you had ever done was tell her to stay in camp for a while, and more often than not, you had good reason to do so. Her gaze fell upon Wyll and Shadowheart, two of the companions who had set off with you that morning, before she began to march over, determined to know who or what caused you to become so withdrawn. "What the hells happened out there?!" Karlach could hardly contain the irritation that bubbled in her chest, spilling into her voice. Wyll was the first to speak, his face a mask of self-reproach. "Halsin was trying to retrieve Thaniel - the spirit of these lands..." He began to explain, glancing briefly to Shadowheart, who's lips were fixed in a clear frown. "Right..." Karlach said slowly, "... I'm assuming something went wrong, by the look on everyone's faces..." "... We weren't able to defend the portal he had entered entirely... It collapsed, and... He's gone." Karlach's face fell as it all clicked into place in her mind. That's why you were acting so strange. "... Oh." Was all she could manage. She couldn't even muster up any rage at the circumstance, she was just stunned. She hadn't had a chance to get really close to Halsin, but he was a nice guy, there was no denying it. He had been courteous to all of them - a kind hearted soul, who always lent an ear to anyone who needed it. To Karlach, he had been a good laugh. Most evenings, on the short walk back to their tents, she and him would share a good few jokes with one another before retiring to rest. The loss of the druid would weigh heavily on her, though not as heavily as it would do you. Wyll cleared his throat, glancing towards your tent. "I think I may try and speak with them..." Shadowheart scoffed at this, causing Wyll's head to turn. "Good luck," Were the only words that the half-elf offered him, her voice dripping with sarcasm, before she turned away, marching herself right back to her tent to isolate herself for a while. Karlach followed suit, with nothing of meaning left to say. She meandered back to her own tent, seeking to settle herself down in the mountain of various pillows she had stored in there, to have a good cry.

Wyll did not return to his tent, however. Like he had said, he was going to try and talk with you. Try being the operative word. There had been a handful of times that you hadn't exactly been open to talking with anyone, and Wyll fully expected to be one of those times. He tried to peer through the tiny gap left between the flaps that marked the entrance to your tent, but to no avail. He cleared his throat quietly to announce his presence - but there was no answer from him. He carefully parted the fabric before him, crouching down a bit to get closer to you. Your tent was the smallest out of the whole group's, purely for the reason that, before the adventure began, you didn't have a lot to bring with you. Even now, with so much more to your name, you are more likely to leave some of your belongings with your fellow party members. "Go away." Your voice was low, not quite a threat, but close. "I don't want to talk to anyone, about anything. Leave me be." "You know," Wyll began to speak, completely ignoring your request, "I don't think Halsin would want you to spend any time moping after him..." You started to push yourself up into a seated position. Even in the dark, Wyll could imagine the look on your face; a deep set scowl, eyes narrowed and glaring daggers at the perpetrator who dared disturbed your 'peace'. In this case, of course, that was him. "You have no right to-" "Yes, I do." Wyll's voice was calm, despite your ire. "I'm your friend - one of your closest by your own admission, if I remember rightly..." He said as he crawled into the tent to join you - in the hopes of making you feel a little bit less alone. "I know you and Halsin were close..." Close wasn't exactly the word that the warlock had in mind, but he didn't want to rub salt in the wound. You had lost a man that you loved, and Wyll knew that grief wasn't an easy thing to deal with. "But, we did what we could - defended him and that portal as much as we were able to... He didn't ask for anything more..." "But he did - he asked us for his help to heal the-" "I know... But that was before we got overwhelmed by shadow-cursed harpers, and Gods know what else..." Wyll interrupted. "We did what we could, and he'd be happy with that... Even if we didn't manage to heal the curse..." His voice was tinged with a hint of sadness, despite trying to ease your pain. "He wouldn't want you to sit here, isolating yourself as punishment... But I understand you need time to mourn.. So, how about, tomorrow morning, you and I go for a walk around the outskirts of camp? We can talk all things Halsin.." You consider it for a moment, before nodding quietly. "Good.." Wyll smiled in response to your acceptance - there were times when you could be extraordinarily stubborn. He'd seen it himself at various points on your adventure together, and he was quite glad that he didn't have to be on the receiving end of it. "I'll bring your dinner to you, if you'd prefer not to join the rest of us..." You nod again, and Wyll begins to shuffle out of your tent, leaving you be for the evening.

You didn't join the others for food that evening - not that there was much to join. The group sat mostly in silence as they ate, all starting to feel the absence of their druidic friend. Lae'zel did try to make conversation, having found that her ideals didn't exactly align with Halsin's, she didn't get as close to him as some of the other had done in the same time. However, no one could find it in them to respond, besides Astarion, who snapped at her to stop talking for a moment. Even he was feeling down about the loss of Halsin - even if he had only grown 'fond' of the wood elf because he found him amusing. But the time night had fallen - or at least, what the group had all assumed to be night, as both night and day looked eerily the same under the shadowcurse - everyone had returned to their tents to rest.

The night - like so many before that you had all spent in the shadow-cursed lands - was cold, and very very quiet. The dead branches of various trees clashing against one another were the only sounds to be heard. No birdsong could be heard for miles. That was unless you counted the raspy sounds from the undead birds that sometimes came close to camp. They'd scurry away before they got too close, though. But there was something, off in the distance, that was slowly making it's way closer and closer to camp. Of course, no one was really aware of it until it was right on your doorstep. You had initially thought that the heavy footfall approaching your tent in the middle of your rest was Karlach - she'd often come over to you after a long, hard day. "Karlach," You spoke, your voice slightly muffled against the rough material of your makeshift pillow. "Now really isn't a good time.. Go back to your own tent." You expected to hear the footsteps retreating after this. Karlach was never one to try and encroach your personal space, especially after such a blunt request. However, this wasn't the case with this now unknown intruder. Something twigged in your mind that this might not be someone who meant well. Either that, or Karlach really wanted to have some company. You started to push yourself up onto your elbows, and when your eyes finally managed to focus on the figure slowly starting to crawl it's way into your tent, you could have sworn you heart stopped.

Halsin.

Immediately you were alert - were you still dreaming? No, you couldn't be, it didn't feel... Fuzzy enough, to be a dream. But it never feels like a dream when you're in the middle of it. You hurriedly push yourself into a more upright position, trying to kick the raggedy blankets off of your legs for more freedom of movement. "Halsin-" Your voice caught in your throat, leaving it as little more than a mousey squeak. Your chest felt tight, heavy. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of hope - he was alive! But as your eyes began to focus on the massive form of your once lover, you began to notice that some things were amiss. There were clusters and clumps of some dark mass, something not quite natural. Some of the clumps glowed and flickered with an eerie and dim bluish light, casting a foreboding shadow over your beloved's stoic - and entirely too-still - features. You recognised those growths - the telltale calling card of the shadows when they had wrenched their claws so deep into a living thing that nothing but a husk remained. You had seen it earlier that day; the hundreds of undead harpers, githyanki, dogs and birds that had assaulted you, your party, and the portal that had undone everything for you. The last stage before the host of the growths was devoured, and became nothing more than a shadow doomed to roam the desolated town, caught entirely in their own pain and grief. Though, the thought of that final form was pushed to the very back of your mind just at the moment it had popped in. Surely, though, if Halsin had managed to find your camp, there must be something of him left in there? As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you've moved to rest on your knees, bringing your face closer to his. "Halsin, you're alright..." There's something screaming at you in the back of your mind, telling you that this isn't right, that something is dreadfully, dreadfully wrong, but you elect to ignore it. For once, you just wanted to try and focus on the positive side. "You..." You couldn't quite place what it was about Halsin's voice that felt off to you - was it too deep? Too scratchy? Who cares, he's here, he's home. You didn't have to bear with that godsawful weight in your chest anymore, you could just move on, and think of this whole affair as nothing more than a blip on your adventure. You open your mouth to speak, but Halsin beats you to it. "Failed." His voice was so low it almost sounded like the chords in his throat were rupturing as the words left his lips - or perhaps they already had. It hits you like a stone to the head, and you freeze in place, paralysed by the realisation you should have had much earlier. This was not a dream, and Halsin was in front of you, but, he had been corrupted. Whatever drive he had to get back to you - whether it had originally been love, lust or something else - had now been twisted into something sick, something that longed to make you suffer as it was.

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, a thick hand was wrapping around your throat - squeezing, constricting, cutting off your air and your ability to cry out for help. Your hands dart to his wrist to try and alleviate some of the pressure, but you know that there's almost no point. With Halsin's great size, came great strength - you wouldn't be able to easily escape from this, he had the upper hand. You try anyway, clawing at his hand and forearm like a wild animal, trying to break skin and hurt him enough to have him flinch away from you. But that moment never comes. In fact, you could swear that he's applying more pressure to your throat. "Don't. Struggle." The grating voice of Halsin growls at you. You try to tell yourself that it's not him, but of course... the face looming above you would convince yourself otherwise. With the corners of your vision starting to blur and fade, you grow desperate. You begin to thrash and kick at him - and you manage to land a few good blows to the undead elf's ribs and stomach, not that it made much difference to the beast of a druid. You think at one point one of your feet dislodges a pole keeping your tent upright. At least, that seems to be the reasonable explanation for the structure collapsing on the both of you, obscuring your view even more. Your kicks start to weaken as Halsin applies even more pressure to your windpipe, obviously intent on robbing you entirely of your ability to breathe. You stop moving - in part to try and conserve what little oxygen you have left, but also because... What's the point in struggling against Halsin? Not only was he much stronger than you, but he was also... Right. You had failed him, despite the fact that you had tried your damndest to complete the task he had set you. Though it broke your hear to admit it to yourself, there was little you could do to deny it, even with the discussion you had had with Wyll earlier that night.

You had just about given in to the inevitable fate set before you, when the weight pressing down on your neck was just... Gone. You immediately sat up, spluttering as air finally reached your lungs, making you feel light-headed, but promising your survival. "Get the fuck away from them!" Karlach's roar was unmistakable as your scurried to pull the fabric of your tent off of your head to see what was going on; Karlach, greatsword in hand, was moving to swing at the corrupted Halsin - whilst Lae'zel, a determined look on her face, was mere moments away from doing the same, marching over from her own tent to join the fray. Gale was by your side in an instant, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. "Come, quickly," He ushered you over to his tent as he spoke. "Inside, Shadowheart will check you over in a moment," His gaze turned back to Karlach, Lae'zel and Halsin for a moment, watching as the Tiefling and Githyanki lay blow after blow into the flesh of the thing that had tried to kill you. They were only just able to keep him on his knees, and it looked like his skin was shredding where he had been hit. His only sounds acknowledging that he was being attacked were grunts of effort as he tried to through off their hits and get back to his feet - which did not work. He wasn't even bleeding; a greenish-blue liquid dripped languidly from his newly-formed wounds.

"Stop looking, you don't need to see this." Gale told you firmly, taking your shoulder and guiding you more forcibly into the tent. "That's not him, anymore... You know that, yes?" He tries to soothe you. "That wasn't Halsin - just an... Echo of him, if that." Despite his kind words, tears begin to streak down your cheeks. You feel Gale's arms wrap around you, and your legs give out for a moment. You can't do this. It's too much. How is one person meant to handle all of this - the mindflayer tadpoles, the fate and wellbeing of their companions, helping as many people as they can on the way through the environs they must travel - and still walk tall? It is too much of a weight, a burden you can no longer carry. This overwhelming grief is just the straw that breaks the Rothe's back. You don't remember much of what happens after that - besides the sobs that start to wrack your body, making you heave with each breath. Gale lowers you to the floor, and you can vaguely hear him saying something to you, though you can't quite make out the words. You don't try to figure out what they are, though. You just want this to stop - for the emotions that feel too big for your body to just cease, and leave you in peace.

Your companions come and go throughout the night, each taking a turn to sit with you, to try and soothe your sorrows. Nothing really works. After many hours - though it feels like days to you - the tears finally stop falling. You're exhausted, and can't bring yourself to move off of Gale's bedroll; and no one dares to try anyway. It's Wyll who's with you as you finally drift off into an exhausted sleep. He doesn't move to tell the others, though, in case you should wake and need his company. A frown is etched into his features as he watches you - he knows all too well how much this grief can tear someone apart from the inside. He makes sure that you've got a blanket over your shoulders to keep you warm. "Don't you worry... You'll still have us," He whispers, not even caring if you can't hear him. "No matter what, we'll stick by you... And we'll get you through this. For Halsin's sake, not just for yours..."

The druid would have wanted that much for his lover, at least.

[gemshroud]

I was thinking more about Entreri in BG3 and wrote this post in my head in bed last night lol

Ranking BG3 Companions By How Likely Entreri Would Be To Romance Them

Caveats: This has no bearing on rp if you write any of these characters btw, this is just for funsies. Also please understand that despite this ranking Entreri is most likely to just never fuck and I love that for him :) Withers vc: Thou art bitchless?

#1 - LAE'ZEL

Most likely to romance. He gets her and actually respects her a great deal. (Looking at the rest of the party) "Why are you all being so precious about this? She's right and knows more about mindflayers than any of us." Entreri would also appreciate the Act 2 love battle A Lot.

#2 - ASTARION

They're more similar than Entreri would probably like to admit. Bonding over sexual trauma unexpectedly breaks some of his walls. Neither of them know wtf they are doing but they will be ride or die about it, will screw over everyone else here and run away together if needs must. Murder husbands.

#3 - SHADOWHEART

They would probably have a weird little mutually antagonistic start because they're both mean and cagey and Entreri hates clerics. But they wind up having more fun in that rivalry than expected. Entreri also hates Selune for Reasons. It would start as appreciation for Shadowheart's competency but could easily become "oh no, I care about this strange woman's tragedy and want to see her escape her circumstances in a way that's uncomfortably familiar, oh fuck."

#4 - WYLL

Entreri's dynamic with Wyll would be so fascinating. Wyll is a lot like Drizzt. Entreri would deeply resent and chafe at Wyll's idealism and yet Wyll is skilled enough to back it up so... Oh! How Entreri seethes!! Wyll meanwhile is probably more amused than anything. Very much one-sided nemeses LOL Entreri vc: I don't know how to flirt with him so I have to declare him my enemy.

#5 - MINTHARA

Ngl his initial response to Minthara would be "I am not getting involved in more drow bullshit" which is fair. Perhaps surprisingly, he would also deeply hate attacking the Grove. He's actually not about unnecessary violence or violence just for the sake of it against ordinary people, and he probably relates to the tieflings on some level despite not really caring to help them. Go figure. However... Act 2 Minthara and onward... "There are no gods left for me"? He would vibe with that mightily.

#6 - KARLACH

Honestly he probably likes her a great deal, but perhaps she is too good for him LOL

#7 - GALE

He would get along fine with Gale if they actually talked but they probably don't. Entreri is probably mildly annoyed by him LOL

#8 - JAHEIRA

This ranking is mostly for Jaheira's disinterest tbh. Entreri probably respects her the most of anyone here. They would gossip so venomously and so beautifully together.

#9 - HALSIN

Similar feelings as with Gale - just kind of mild annoyance. Also Entreri has the carnal desires of a ball of lint so sorry, not really interested in climbing the bear man.

#10 - MINSC

Entreri hates this man so deeply.

Bonus:

RANDOM NPCS ENTRERI WOULD GET ALONG WITH (platonically):

Derryth Bonecloak, Mol, Madame Lucretious, Zarys, Gortash, Nine-Fingers Keene, Wulbren, all the little gnome terrorists tbh, Lakrissa, Grendel

RANDOM NPCS ENTRERI WOULD HATE:

Cazador, Volo, Kagha, Nere, Naaber, Dolly Dolly Dolly, Raphael, The Emperor, Ketheric Thorm (dad issues), Florrick, Ulder Ravenguard, the Underdark fish guys lol

[muddiestpath]

BG3 Wyll hypothetical alt version.

Brought to you by my patient friends on discord humoring me.

What if Wyll:

Is youngest of the BG3 crew but mistaken for older because of his stressfull time devil hunting & due to various misconceptions about the 'Blade of Frontiers' persona he's lived as for years. Also would mean the writers didn't need to work around the discrepancy of his powers post-worm.

Was sheltered by his father, Duke Ravenguard obviously desperate to give his son what he wants but keep him safe after losing his wife. Unbeknownst to Wyll his 'scraps' in his youth were overseen by his dad so it was more of a safe experience.

Makes it more believable that Mizora tricked him as she did. If he had unknowingly been made to see himself as more capable than he was.

Not arrogant!(we got enough arrogance in camp) Still a golden retriever/enthuisiatic type, but the bravado now comes from somewhere. Wyll's VA can def make it charming.

Have his arc that gets tangled with his dad be spicey without ruining what is a sweet realtionship. Instead as Wyll learns he had been shielded from more than he thought he has to face his imposter syndrome alongside seeing the endless proof of his father's hope & pride for him.

That when the Duke sent him out of the city it was more to do with the shame his father had for realising his doting ways had cost Wyll his immortal soul than any shame of having a warlock son(?). Wyll's dad hoping that Mizora would let him go if she could'nt use his son to get to him (I'm assuming given Act2 ultimatum that is what Mizora is after). Let them reconcile over both being well-meaning fools.

In that 'Blade of Frontiers' time Wyll then had Mizora 'protecting' him but ofc it's quickly obvious to him she was being manipulative & fucking awful. But when Wyll resisted her Mizora would've twisted what used to be words of concern from his father to her own uses. Good old "well-meaning parents accidently making their kid easily manipulated".

Wyll isn't oblivious but rather trapped like he is in the game, the younger age just makes the helplessness more urgent/recent in his timeline?

Wyll & his father still have a very loving & positive relationship, but now there is something more nuanced there.

Also felt like there wasn't as much burn-out/imposter syndrome as I was expecting from Wyll's initial comments about living up to the title of 'Blade of Frontiers'. Let him slip into that bravado as a defense mechanism but also resent how distorted he has become trying to live up to the snowballing stories about him.

Wyll could be a recruitable companion like Jaheira but not romanceable, I think I'd like him more as a something of an apprentice? I know a lot of people see romance as only way get attached to a character but let me have a platonic option. (in my mind)

I like Wyll as he is, he just is my least favourite as I understand the group so far(early in act2 on first playthrough). Got into a groupchat on how'd we change our least favs to match our tastes in stories better.

[parvulous-writings]

hi!

i guess dhampir bard strikes again.

(also sorry if the request is way too ridiculous or too detailed)

can i request a one shot/imagine of platonic wyll ravenguard x half-elf gn dhampir bard reader?

the dhampir bard is a noblewoman from waterdeep. their mother was an elf noblewoman. their father was a vampire lord, who was tricked into giving up his blood and then killed by his spawns. said vampire spawns ended up raised them, becoming their "siblings". they're very controlling of the reader, partially using them as a pawn. yet their "brothers and sisters" are also ironically extremely protective of her caused by the twisted familial "love". they also seized control over the reader's inherited wealth.

wyll and reader meet a few times, first time with him catching reader feeding. maybe, he'll see that despite the bad first impression the reader is not as much of a horrible person and monster as they seem.

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: mentions of familial death, gore, chains, and violence.

Notes: My requests are currently open, though limited! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

The nature of your birth - of your very being - had always become quite the point of contention between you, and near enough anyone you came into contact with. Though you were noble by blood, the moment anyone learnt of your condition, their opinion of you soured. Such was the life of a dhampir.

Your mother was an elf - a woman of high esteem, or so you had been told. You had no memory of her - she had passed before you had reached your first year. Your father had been a human. Before he had become a vampire - which was long before your time, long before even your mother's time. Your family's tale was largely a tragic one; though most of the details had faded into myth, and legend. The stories broader strokes went as such;

A young human was taken in his youth by a vampire, tricked and changed into becoming one of the vampire lord's own spawn. Through one turn or another, this young man had been able to rise to the station of his master, freeing himself - to some extent. Over many years, this vampire gathered a few spawn for himself, naming them each his children, and acting as their twisted father - but his need for companionship was never quite sated. That was until he encountered the most enchanting elf he had ever met. Some say that he charmed her - conveniently forgetting that elves were immune to a vampire's gaze - whilst others insist that he wooed her, courted her, as any man would. Details change at this point, from person to person, teller to teller, as the tale was passed down through the years. Some say that this large, makeshift family was a happy one, others say that they were never even close to resembling a true pair of lovers, that instead they were more akin to an abductor and his victim.

What you would be able to tell them - through the stories that the vampire spawns that your father had sired, whom all acted as your siblings had told you - is that, for a time, the couple were happy. Incredibly so, as a matter of fact. Besides the fact that the Patriarch of the family had a very unsettling aura about him, and all of his so-called children followed his demands to the letter, you could hardly tell that they were any different from any other family. Unfortunately, this happy family was not the one that you had grown up with. You hardly even remember this time whenever your siblings recall it. You never really gave that much thought, however - why should you? You hadn't grown up in that environment, and you had accepted the fact that your siblings had taken it upon themselves to manage every part of your life, no matter how small. Your mannerisms were inherited from them, your outfits were normally picked out by your eldest sister. She had been named Keres after her quasi-death, and after your father's untimely demise, she had assumed the role of leader amongst the children, you included. She always had something to say about you - your hair was too untidy, your clothes were too crumpled, you weren't standing straight enough. She meant well, or so you believed. How else were you to make an impression amongst the other nobles? All you had so far was that your parents had died, giving you a dramatic and tragic edge.

"So, if the people see that you are refined, and are of good breeding in despite of this... Just imagine how many people will listen to you." Keres would coo as you stood before the mirror. It was always something that all three of your older siblings tried to strive for - to get you into the limelight, rubbing shoulders of all manner of rich and powerful people. Unbeknownst to you, your siblings were trying to put you into position so that they had more power over the high and mighty in the city. They had control over you, and your money... Next stop, the nobility of the Gate. There was just one, small problem with that. Though you weren't a full vampire, you still needed to feed.

Your brother, Mallor - the middle child - was the one normally in charge of fetching your food. Although, he was never particularly kind with the whole affair; withholding your meals when you displeased the rest of the family, as a sick and twisted punishment. You had tried to tell him that all this did was make things worse. It was awfully hard to concentrate when you were constantly hungry. But, he didn't listen - and worst of all, Keres agreed with him. "You'll earn your next meal, when you've done as Keres has asked." The taller man seethed at you, his fangs just peeking over his lips. "Until then... Well, best you pray I don't have it for myself." His voice is teasing - but you know that he isn't. Any opportunity to feed, and Mallor takes it without thinking, and without remorse. The youngest of the spawns - Tilli - was possibly the nicest, if you only took her actions at face value. She often let you escape the confines of the estate so you could run wild in the streets, feeding off of numerous vagrants: But not because she wanted you to be happy. She wanted you to get in trouble - to be punished. Such, in fact, was her plan tonight. She had left various doors that were usually locked come nightfall, unbarred. Though something in your brain tried to pull you back as you briskly made your way through the winding halls of your home, the hunger in your belly far outweighed any rational thoughts that popped into your head. Within mere moments, you could feel the cool evening air on your skin.

It doesn't take you long at all to find someone that you can sink your teeth into; the City is filled to the brim with people that could disappear, unnoticed, with no friends nor loved ones to mourn their loss. You corner them with ease, your gaze unwavering as you charm them, convincing them that you mean no harm. They believe you, of course, even though your charm isn't as strong as it could be if you were a full vampire. A ripple of relief flows through your body as your fangs start to sink into the jugular of your victim. You bite over and over, tearing away chunks of skin and muscle, to reveal the crimson nourishment held within. You're hardly aware of your surroundings - or how covered in blood and stray bits of flesh you are - until you hear someone call out, yelling at you to stop, and the audible sharpness of a blade as it's unsheathed from it's scabbard. Without thinking, you bear your fangs at the approaching figure, hissing in warning. However, they do not stop, seemingly undeterred by your threat. Seeing that they do not slow, you turn tail, fleeing as fast as your legs can carry you - which thankfully, is much, much faster than your oncoming attacker. You hear the quick, steady thud of boots on stone, and you know that they've decided to pursue you. It was probably the wiser thing to do, for them at least - you knew that your victim had died by the time you had bitten a second time, you were always sure with your strikes, trying to make the process as quick as possible for your victim. You weave through back-alleys and side streets, trying to lose the clearly righteous follower, but to no avail. Unfortunately, you make a wrong turn in your panic, and end up face to face with a dead end. With no other way out, you face the obstacle, starting to dig your claws into the bricks, pulling yourself up, until you are able to haul yourself over the other side. You fall quiet, listening for a moment, as you hear the tell-tale sound of boots rushing to the wall, before slowing to a halt. "... By Balduran's Helm..." You here your pursuer - presumably a man, from the sounds of it - mumble. You don't stick around for much longer than that, though; just in case he managed to figure out that you had just scaled the wall.

The entry hall of your home is eerily quiet when you return. That is, until the door slams closed behind you. "Keres is looking for you," Tilli informs you, in a sing song voice. A knot of dread forms in your chest. "She's not happy... Not at all - and when she sees how dusty your clothes are..." She trails off, laughing at your plight. "Oh I doubt you will sleep tonight... She was furious last I saw her..." You can tell that Tilli is nothing short of gleeful, she always has revelled in the distress and pain you felt when you got in trouble. You don't verbally acknowledge her taunts, instead marching forward to face whatever wrath you had incurred. Mallor is lurking by your bedroom door, arms folded over his chest, and a dark look on his face. "There you are-" His voice is little more than a growl as he reaches out to grab you, dragging you into your room with a grip like iron. Keres is pacing about within, her lips pulled into a snarl, which only grows more pronounced as she sees Mallor bringing you to her. "Where have you been, you little brat?!" She leaves no room for you to answer as she grabs your face, examining the gore smeared on it. "You couldn't have waited? You risked being seen, with one of the biggest galas of the year in less than a week?" Hells. You had forgotten about that. "Ridiculous!" Keres practically roars, shoving your face away. "You are not to leave this chamber until the Gala." Her voice is sharp as her gaze turns to your older brother. "Mallor." She commands, and he doesn't need further instruction to know what she wants him to retrieve. You hear the chains before you see them, and your eyes go wide.

"Sister- no, please-" Your voice cracks as you beg with her, trying to appeal to whatever lingering humanity there may be. "Oh, be quiet." Her voice isn't much more than a hiss, almost inaudible over the sound of her quite literally clapping the irons over your wrists and legs, before chaining you to one of the posts of your bed. "Now... Now you won't be going anywhere. I will be back to collect you, when it is time to prepare you for the gala." The venom in her tone makes you wince, even after all these years. You lower your gaze, and Mallor gives a huffing chuckle, before following his older sister out of the room, with not another word said.

The next few days pass by painfully slow, each one seeming to drag out more than the last. You try to sleep through it, and at first it works, but then the hunger returns, and it's difficult to make your mind focus on anything else. You try gazing out the window to the city below, watching the birds and the ships off in the distance, you even try picking at the hem of your clothes. Nothing works, there's still that constant nagging of wanting, needing to feed. You're in a haze of hunger when the door to your chambers opens, you hardly register it's happened. It's only when you feel someone tugging you to your feet by your chains that you realise there is someone in the room with you. The chains are off your wrists soon after, and you feel yourself being pulled about - not that you offer much resistance. "Oh, good... Everything is so much easier when you don't fight back..." Keres coos at you, carefully undressing you, and helping you into what feels like newly made clothes - most likely made especially for the gala this evening. You don't respond, knowing that anything you say would certainly sour her mood.

By sunset, you're being helped out of a carriage by the valet, offering a gentle nod of thanks, before moving to join the other nobles, mingling within the large hall - with gentle music drifting through the air. You try to stay towards the edge of the crowd - not daring to mingle too much amongst them, their heartbeats far too tantalising for your own liking. "Crowds not your thing?" A voice suddenly asks from beside you. You start a bit, suddenly turning your head to face your addressor. A bell rings in the distant corner of your mind - he sounds ever so vaguely familiar. He's a handsome man, young, with an eye catching gaze - most likely thanks to his two different coloured eyes; one a deep, luscious brown, the other, a stark differing... Grey. It seemed to be a prosthetic. You shake your head in answer to his question. It wasn't entirely a lie. "Mine, neither." He sympathises, with a smile. An emotion you can't quite read crosses his face; but it's gone as soon as you notice it. "Would you care to join me on the veranda? It's a wonderful evening - and I must say, there is hardly a soul there..." His suggestion does sound appealing - and you would do near anything to get away from the crowd and the thrum of their hearts beating in tandem; even if it meant risking the life of this young man.

In this case, you thought it to be the lesser evil. One versus many... You knew what the 'right' choice was, what your siblings would tell you. Once you were outside, the stranger fell oddly silent for a few minutes. He went to stand near to the railing, and you followed after him. "Forgive me, I may be speaking out of turn - and I truly mean no harm by it, but.." The man starts, sounding almost... Morose. "You look at lot like someone I saw, not too long ago. And, I'm not one to make baseless accusations, but you look extraordinarily like them." Odd you would say that, a voice sneered in your mind. You only saw me for a moment. But you stayed quiet, making your face change to a more... Confused expression. It seemed to work, and the man continued to speak. "... A few weeks ago, I saw what I can only describe as a heinous act - an aggressor, hunched over-" "You know, most people would at least introduce themselves before slandering the one whom they speak to.." You cut him off, only partially joking. The fellow looked down to his feet for a moment, as if recollecting himself. "Yes, of course... Please, do forgive me... My name is Wyll." "Well, Wyll," His name tasted sweet on your tongue, you had to admit. "Why would you accuse me of such a thing?" I brought a hand to your chest, feigning insult. "As I said - I do apologise, but the resemblance is so striking, that I couldn't just say nothing-" He hastily explained. "They murdered an innocent, and the Flaming fist have done nothing!" He hissed, leaning slightly towards you as his voice became hushed. "That doesn't mean you can accuse random nobility that you decide to socialise with-" You hiss back, your mouth opening just a bit too wide, exposing your fangs. You quickly clamp your mouth shut again once you realise, but by the horror struck look on Wyll's face, the damage had been done.

"It was you-" He exclaimed, stumbling slightly as he took a step back from you. "Wait!" You exclaim, holding up your hands, and willing him to stop. He hesitates, part of him clearly wanting to hear you out - the part of him that sought to wreak fair judgement. "Why should I?" He asked, somewhat harshly. "You killed an innocent man on the street!" "I had to feed-" You try to explain yourself, hurriedly continuing before Wyll could get the wrong idea of you. "I hadn't fed in so long, I was starving; my eldest sister, and brother... They withhold any food, if I do not follow their rules, and do as they say..." You see a flash of sympathy in his eyes, but it quickly hardens again. "You could be lying. How do I know you're telling me the truth?" He asks - and rightly so. You think for a moment, trying to come up with anything that could prove your story. You then quickly pull up your long sleeves, so that the cuff now hangs around your elbows, revealing the faint red marks around your wrists, from where the chains had sat for weeks on end. "These-" You gasp to him. "They chain me, to punish and control... The man you saw me feed on..." You trail off for a moment, having now fully admitted to what you had done. "He was a vagrant - I try to always go for them... Someone people want miss, or realise is gone... I know what I am, and what I do, makes me.. Deplorable, to a degree, but.. I am trying my best." You emphasise. "I can't ignore the hunger - I've tried that. The only thing to do, is to feed, when I need to..."

Wyll seems to think about this for a moment. The fact that you seemed to openly aim for vagrants was a somewhat valiant act on your part - at least you could realise that much. But, there was room for improvement. And he knew, he may be able to help you. "I believe you." He speaks softly, breaking the silence that had fallen over the both of you. You stare at him, in disbelief. "And... I am willing to help." He tells you. That took you by surprise even more. "There are... More morally correct people to feed from, if that is your issue... I can retrieve some of the.. More hardened criminals, from various parts of the city - my father has the standing, I'm sure I could wrangle some form of plan for you..." You stare at him, confused for a moment. "Ah... You look like you're about to ask me why I'm helping..." You nod, dumbly, in reply. "Well... I see good in you. Despite your siblings' control, despite your innate hunger, I see good in those eyes... And I am willing to put in some effort, to help you become better..." He assured you. You step forward, wrapping your arms around him for a moment, mumbling thanks into the clothing that covered his chest. He pulled you away after a moment. "You don't need to thank me - not yet, at least..." He offered a warm smile, and you allowed yourself to respond in kind. "Now, how about we head back inside... Have ourselves a small waltz... And see what ideas we can come up with, hm?" He suggests, offering you his arm. You nod, enthusiastically, "Yes.. I think that would be a very good idea.." You agree with him, as you follow his lead back into the hall, to begin concocting your shared schemes.