I love thinking about The Emperor just picking up a sleepy Tav so gently with his tentacles and holding them so close.
Yes, psionics is easier. Right there. But tactile, gentle touch has been scrubbed away for so long from him. Maybe Tav, too.
It's a rediscovery, almost. More, now, than just a memory, dream, echo of the man he once was walking the streets of his city, sailing the seas, wild wind in his hair, familiar wings at his back.
Tav's dreams have been his own. A waking dream to claim and write a plea of together. Of need. Then somehow, more.
Right now, those dreams are Tav's own, their body his. Wrapped in tentacles that hold their body close. Close enough to study the texture of their skin. The rise, fall of their chest. The stalled evolution of their partial ceramorphosis rewriting their beauty to more.
More, that it distracts him.
Nothing, distracts him. But this beauty, this being bloomed in power, breathless in their presence-
They, distract him.
The veins like voidlight as he draws the tip of a tentacle across Tav's face. As he slithers another between their legs, bent and curled to their chest. A palm, to The Emperor's chest.
Connection, bound. If not body, mind. If not mind, soul. If nothing left, I will find you again.
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Ok, alright lads, it is done! Here it is:
Some soft, doemstic illithid fluff we all crave.
I mostly blame @magmethius for this one bc they asked so nicely for this and are overall just a cool fellow!
To everyone stopping by and taking a look at it: Have fun! Because I sure as hell had fun writing this
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