good luck babe!

Trudging through various weeds and overgrowth, Rolan found a side door that servants might have come in and out through when someone still lived here. It was locked, as he figured it would be. He was prepared for this and muttered an incantation under his breath, spraying the lock with acid in the hopes of corroding the mechanism and pushed the door open.

As soon as he stepped inside, something felt off. Something was watching him. Rolan could feel eyes on him while he moved about the dark place. It was littered with all kinds of junk and clutter, but it didn’t look quite as dusty as he might have imagined an abandoned home might be. Perhaps it was a common haunt of criminals and other unsavory folk. Maybe Lorroakan sent him here to see how he would handle such foes with minimal notice. He was prepared. He would be ready. All he had to do was find the two items and be on his way.

The sound of a thud caused him to jump. Rolan turned towards the noise and hurled a firebolt in the direction of the sound. It landed with a crackle and crash followed by a distressed yowl. A hairless cat clad in a smoking sweater scampered away.

He let out a breath of relief at realizing it was only a cat. Then his eyes widened as he realized the cat was clothed. It had to be a pet. If that was the case, then this manor was not as abandoned as he was led to believe.

Surely that wasn’t the case, though. Lorroakan wouldn’t have sent him to rob someone blind, would he? The sweater must have been a trick of the light, or lack thereof.

Right as Rolan pulled himself together enough to walk further into the manor, he heard a muffled yell. One that was distinctly human-like followed by the sound of footsteps and creaking floorboards.

“Zurgan,” he muttered, trying to turn around and retrace his steps back to the door he came through.

The creaking was getting closer, he doubted there was time for an escape. If he had been thinking, he would have prepared invisibility. However, that hadn’t seemed necessary for an abandoned manor.

“Who’s there?!” shouted a woman’s voice from down the hall, “I know you’re there, I can hear you!”

Looking back, he saw the dark figure of the woman he presumed was yelling at him. She was moving slowly enough that he was fairly certain he could make it out. Rolan would have assumed someone would be quicker in trying to apprehend an intruder, but he was relieved to be mistaken.

Rolan bolted for it. Only to hear a whooshing sound right behind him. It happened so quickly that he almost didn’t register the sensation of something at his throat when he tried to move forward. He froze in his tracks.

Something akin to a blade pressed firm against his throat, “Give me one good reason to not kill you right now.”

“I didn’t know someone lived here,” he said lamely, “This place was supposed to be abandoned.”

He highly doubted that this person was going to believe him. That had to be the worst excuse in the book for getting caught stealing. Not that he would know as he wasn’t one for such antics. If he had known… if Lorroakan had told him someone lived here… he never would have come. At least, he wanted to think that was the case. He wanted to believe he wasn’t so hungry for power that he would blindly go along with his master’s every whim. There was no telling what the archmage would have done if he refused to be part of this.

She didn’t immediately cut his throat, so he assumed he mustn’t have made things worse.

The blade still remained as she spoke again, “Surely you can do better than that, apprentice. Now, tell me what is so important that you would almost kill my cat for it.”

His eyes widened. He never said anything about his apprenticeship. Cal and Lia might have mentioned something about being impressed he kept his mouth shut about it for more than a few minutes if they were here. The woman must have read his mind. No, she probably saw the robes and assumed. That had to be it. Certainly Lorroakan hadn’t led him into a psionic’s home with no sort of warning.

She was upset about the cat. Surely he could explain that away and make it out of this with his head on his shoulders. Maybe not the glaive or the key, but Lorroakan hadn’t warned him of the true nature of his assignment. It was like the man wanted him to fail. Rolan supposed this would not have been the first time his master gave him some kind of tricky problem that couldn’t be solved. Though, it would be the first time he was killed for it.

“I meant no harm to your pet, I apologize for that,” he managed, “I was hoping to find some rare artifacts I heard of.”

Why he hesitated to mention Lorroakan was beyond him. It was obvious there was a catch here of some sort. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

He felt the weapon dissolve away from his throat and the woman stepped in front of him. A frail, haggard looking thing. Her mop of dark hair against her pale skin made her look more like a corpse than someone who could have killed him. Though, there was a striking glint to her eyes that was almost intimidating.

She looked him up and down as though she had any right to judge his appearance, “So, you’re Lorroakan’s new apprentice?”

“I never said-”

“You had it right. I read minds,” her eyes narrowed at him, “Now, you’re going to tell me what that bastard is up to or you’re not leaving alive.”

While he was unsure how someone who looked so sickly was going to overpower him, he also still had no clue how she managed to get from several yards away to right behind him in a moment’s notice. It seemed wiser to go along with her. Besides, he had broken into her home and almost killed her cat.

“That’s all?” he asked.

She shrugged, “I could have you plead and grovel on your hands and knees for your pathetic life, if you’d prefer. Or we can have a normal conversation about this.”

He wasn’t so sure what a normal conversation about breaking and entering was supposed to look like. There was hardly anything normal about this situation. She began to walk off to a different part of the manor.

“Would you like some tea or something?” she asked, waving him over, “Come on, I’m getting a drink, if nothing else.”

Not seeing much of a choice, he followed. There was a chance this woman was simply luring him to make it easier to kill him.

“I’m Cressida, by the way. And, for the record, if I was going to kill you, you would be dead already,” she said.

He raised a brow at her words, “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s not supposed to make you feel worse. Seems Lorroakan’s done plenty of that already,” she replied, before turning back towards him, “Usually people respond by giving their name in return.”

This could be some kind of trick, but he supposed it couldn’t be worse than what he was already dealing with before this, “I’m Rolan.”

She led him into a dark, almost abandoned-looking kitchen. It was certainly too sparse for someone still living there. There was a kettle, which she seemed to struggle with conjuring a spark to get it started. He tried to distract himself by igniting a candle so there was some sort of light.

“I have some tea. I can spike it for you too, if you’d prefer,” Cressida offered, shuffling through a cupboard.

Rolan shook his head, “I don’t think either of us should be drinking right now.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re boring. Probably right, but boring.”

The last thing this already half-dead looking woman needed was a shot of something in her tea. And he needed to keep a clear head. Never mind what Lorroakan might say or do if he came back smelling of alcohol without the things he was sent to procure.

Gods, he couldn’t believe that he was sent to someone’s actual home. That he nearly stole from someone for his master’s sake. How could he have been so blind?

And there was so little he knew about Cressida. Clearly she was some kind of mage, if a bit out of practice. Seeing as she could barely get a spark of magic out.

“You try casting spells while your head is pounding!” she snapped, crossing her arms.

Rolan put his hands up, “I didn’t think you could still hear my thoughts.”

“Well, I can.”

“How do you possibly have that spell still up?”

“For a wizard, you’re incredibly dense,” she replied, rolling her eyes, “It’s not a spell. I hear everyone’s thoughts at all times so long as they’re close enough. So, if you would be so kind as to stop calling me half-dead, I’d appreciate it.”

Rolan felt his face heat up, mortified, “Right… of course. It’s only that…”

“Look, if I’d known someone was coming here, I’d be presentable,” she insisted, “But you came uninvited whilst I’m putting up with one of the worst headaches I’ve had in the last few months. And you almost killed Nova! So forgive me for not being bright eyed and bushy tailed and perfectly groomed for you!”

He frowned and looked at the ground, unable to think of any sort of comeback. Not only was he breaking into her home and nearly killed her cat, he came in at a horrible time for her. It didn’t help that he wasn’t the most considerate of her current appearance either. And yet she decided to talk to him instead of killing him.

“You have a point…” he dug into his robes, “I have a headache potion, if you’d like.”

“You don’t think I have those here in my own house?” she gave him a skeptical look.

Rolan held her gaze and she sighed, “I did run out a few days ago… that would be nice, actually.”

“Looks like you ran out of far more than just headache potions,” Rolan remarked as she took the potion.

She glared at him, “You’re awfully mouthy for someone who isn’t supposed to be here.”

“I merely mean it doesn’t seem like you have much here. For food and the like,” he explained.

“I have enough,” she finished the potion and crossed her arms, “I need to go into the city soon to resupply, but… not today.”

The way she said it implied that she went out into the city and bought a ton of food and stayed locked up in her mansion until she had to go out next. A rather solitary life. Rolan didn’t think he’d mind living that way. Though, Cal and Lia would never let him get away with it for long.

“Are they your family?” Cressida asked, pouring hot water for the cups of tea and handing it to him.

He frowned, “I’d appreciate if you’d stop responding to my thoughts. But yes. You could say they’re family.”

“Don’t think so plainly then,” she blew on her tea, “But if you were wondering, you’re kind of right. I go into the city when I run out of food and the like.”

“Does it get lonely?”

There was a long pause. She chewed at her lip and there was some kind of faraway look in her eyes. Like a part of her left the room for a moment. Cressida shook it off just as quickly.

“Enough about me. We’re here because of what Lorroakan wanted you to take,” she started walking off, “The sitting room’s this way.”

He chose to not push the subject and followed her to the sitting room. Dark and cold like much of what he had seen in the manor. Had he not been scared by her cat, he might have taken what he needed and neither of them would have been the wiser. The place looked abandoned. It must have been too much empty space for one person.

While Rolan wanted to ask about why she chose to keep to herself, he had a feeling she would ignore such questions. Or decide to be less forgiving.

Cressida sat in an old-looking chaise and gestured to the seat across from her.

He sat down, his tail curling around his ankle, “So… what did you want to know first?”

“What were you here to take?” she sipped her tea.

“He only asked that I grab two things. There was a glaive, Master Lorroakan said I’d know it when I saw it,” he started, “It’s adorned with carvings of various constellations and the blade looks like it’s made from the moonlight itself. He said it was a vestige of the goddess Sehanine.”

She nodded, maintaining a neutral expression, “And the second thing?”

“A mithral key. The head of it looks like a labyrinth. He said it was made with the blood of the most powerful thieves around at the time,” Rolan explained.

“Right, and he said these things were his?” she set her tea on the coffee table.

“Yes.”

Cressida raised a brow, “And you believed him?”

Rolan shrugged, “I had to believe him… if nothing else, I believed this place to be empty.”

Doubting his master’s intentions or integrity never ended well. He stopped asking questions some time ago. He had the bruises to prove what happened when Rolan chose to dig deeper on Lorroakan’s intentions. And while Cressida made no attempt to say anything of his thoughts on the matter, he saw the way she shifted in her seat and looked at the floor.

“And…” she tried to refocus, “And did he elaborate on why he wanted these things in particular?”

“No, he just said they were things he lost long ago and that there was an opening to retrieve them. And that I was to do this simple task for him.”

Cressida pushed a chunk of messy hair behind her ear, “And if I told you they were never his?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be surprised…” he shook his head, “I just don’t understand why.”

“I have a few theories.”

“Care to elaborate?”

She picked up her cup once more, “Well, first, let me ask you, have you ever seen Lorroakan use a glaive before? Or any sort of weapon for that matter?”

“Only his staff.”

“Right, so he doesn’t want the glaive to use it. I could see him wanting the key to use it. Depending on what kind of insanity he’s gotten himself wrapped up in over the years, he could have use of it,” she said in a way that made him wonder if she was talking to herself or to him, “But the glaive tells me he isn’t taking these things so he can use them.”

“What’s so special about the glaive?” he asked.

“It’s a vestige specifically given to me by Sehanine herself.”

Rolan dropped his cup and it broke against the stone floor. Tea trickled across the dark gray and he could only watch as her words still didn’t quite register in his head.

“Sorry, what?”

“I am… or more likely, was, a champion of Sehanine,” Cressida explained, “She granted me the glaive when I needed it most. Lorroakan knows that.”

Rolan shook his head in disbelief, “You’re telling me that-”

“Yes, Lorroakan asked you to come in and steal a goddess’s vestige from the person it was specifically crafted for,” she looked at the spilled tea, “You’re going to clean that, right?”

He looked back to the mess and nodded, “Of course… but how does Lorroakan know all of this?”

“Because we were close. I trusted him a great deal at one point… even after I left, I never thought he’d resort to something like this,” she frowned, “At the very least, I didn’t think he’d send an apprentice to do his dirty work for him.”

As Cressida spoke, he began prestidigitating the mess away into a cloud of steam. The cup was broken into large enough pieces that he was able to mend it with a simple spell.

Rolan raised a brow, “How close were you?”

“We were friends in school… I don’t want to bore you with the details, but we reconnected and grew even closer. Then I found him with someone else and… well, I left. But it’s been about a decade now. I don’t get why he’d do this now.”

Rolan paled. Lorroakan sent him to steal some of the most personal belongings of a former lover. Knowing how dangerous she was. Former champion or not, it took a great deal to gain the attention of a deity. And even with Cressida in her current state of pain, he had no doubt that if he’d answered incorrectly several minutes before that she would have cut his throat. Lorroakan had to have known that.

“Now you’re catching on,” she said, “Think about it, your master sends you here to take my things. Not just my things, but things that are deeply personal to me. He’s attempting to get my attention.”

“Do you think he assumed you’d kill me?”

She let out a dry laugh, “Oh, who’s to say? I think he’s using you as a middle man. And if I killed you in the process, you’re likely expendable to him.”

“And what if I killed you?!” he snapped, tail twitching, “I’m not expendable.”

“Face it, if he actually respected you as an apprentice, he never would have sent you here to begin with. At the very least, he would have warned you about what you were walking into. And let’s say you kill me. Congratulations, you’re responsible for the death of an Upper City noble of an old, respected family,” she let out a huff, “Do you think your precious master will protect you from the fallout of that? You’re taking all of the blame while Lorroakan likely gets to spin everything in his favor so he probably gets much more than two of my personal possessions. Whatever happens, he wins. He won’t care if he loses a pawn in the process.”

As badly as Rolan wanted to argue, he knew there was some truth to that. Lorroakan wouldn’t defend his actions, it would be his word against his master’s. And if he didn’t get what he wanted, he could find another apprentice to send instead.

The realization of how little Lorroakan thought of him given he sent Rolan on this sham of an errand on top of his treatment until this point caused him to sit up in his seat. Perhaps it was insanity talking, but he wanted to do something about it.

“Alright, how do we keep him from winning?” he asked.

She sighed, “I’m not sure yet. But I think us not pointing our fingers at each other is a good start. He’s trying to get my attention. We need to figure out why. That’s where you come in.”

“What, am I supposed to snoop through his things?”

She nodded slowly, “Well… yes? That’s how I’d do it.”

“You just saw how abysmal I was at that,” he pointed out.

“You have someone else on your side this time,” she sighed, “And if you don’t want to snoop, don’t. I’m sure you’ll figure something out. In the meantime, will you be okay if you return empty-handed?”

Rolan forced himself to nod, “Of course.”

He tried to not think about what Lorroakan might say or do if he showed up empty-handed. A suddenly impossible task, but he couldn’t just take Cressida’s things. Not when they didn’t know Lorroakan’s intentions.

“Come with me,” Cressida said with a frustrated huff, “I’ll give you the key. You won’t be any help if you’re all bloodied up.”

She led him to what Rolan could only assume was her room. The room wasn’t as cold and soulless as the other spaces in the manor, but still didn’t look like someone truly lived there. Save for the pink, hairless cat curled up in the middle of the bed.

“You owe me a new cat sweater, by the way. And a new cat tree,” Cressida said, giving her cat a quick scratch behind the ear before rifling through a bedside drawer.

Rolan nodded, “Fine, when do you want it?”

“Meet me at Squeakies in… five days. Hopefully you’ve figured out something useful by then,” she placed the key in his hand, “And keep a close eye on this, alright? I don’t know what Lorroakan’s plan is.”

He pocketed the key and smirked, “You almost sound worried.”

“I’d be a fool not to be. You did a piss poor job at breaking into my home,” she pointed out, “Try not to make a mess on your way out.”

Rolan gave her a nod, “Right. I’ll see you soon, then.”

As he left to go back to his master, he figured out what story he would give for only coming back with one thing. Rolan was almost eager to find out how surprised Lorroakan would be to see him without so much as a scratch. What intrigued him more than that was what might happen when he met with Cressida again.

The drow grined at it proudly, “Huh, don’t remember when I did that. But it suits you,” Nim blabbered, lightly tracing one of many spots she marked on him, ‘What’s wrong? Does it hurt?”

“Not at all. But it is very noticeable.”

Knowing perfectly well what he meant, Nimriel put on a mock-offended tone, “You’ve left plenty on me as well.”

Rolan didn’t need a reminder. Recalling how they indulged in each other tonight threatened to cloud his good judgment. If the wizard was completely honest, his judgment was never good with Nim by his side. His palm gliding possessively over her hip was solid proof of that.

“Fair,” the wizard replied calmly, leaning her body closer to his, as if to reveal a grand secret, “But your thighs and breasts aren’t exactly on public display, are they? Caught a couple of customers staring at the marks you’ve left already.”

Nim only shrugged, exhaling the smoke, “Poor you. What horrors - someone realizing the Master of Ramazith’s Tower has a sex life, too?” The drow shook her head dramatically, subtly shifting her hip to slide against his groin. Teasing Rolan by all means imaginable was something Nimriel enjoyed shamelessly. Especially when she could see the desired effects right away. Her wizard’s breathing hitched, giving way to tension in his muscles.

“Soooo…,” Nim leaned closer, basking in the heat he radiated at the mere touch of her body, “Don’t tell me you want me to stop kissing your neck? You know I won’t agree to that.”

“I know,” Rolan managed. He found no arguments sound enough to dim a loud desire to hold her in his arms again, “An equal retribution would do for now.”

His lips grazed her neck, first kiss always being gentle and slow. He loved catching moments when Nim would shudder beneath the tenderness of his touch. When her jokes and jabs wouldn’t be enough to hide how much she yearned for affection. Even more so, how she needed, deserved his devotion.

Rolan’s kisses grew raw and open-mouthed, his tongue trailing the silk of her skin, devouring the taste and quiet whimpers his huntress sang.

“Stay a little longer,” Rolan murmured.

“I hoped you’d catch up on some sleep,” Nimriel replied earnestly, even as her body told another tale, rubbing eagerly against her lover.

“Not a priority,” Rolan breathed, already lost in the haze of their ignited desire. For any minute spent in her embrace, he would accept hundreds of dreamless nights.

Timeline of events: Act 3 of "Worthy", sometime after they become a couple, before the final battle, ofcrs xD Will probably include this snippet into the "Worthy" series :) Overall, expands on their dynamics pretty well :3

Will get to other prompts soon as well, but they all will be as self-indulgent as this one, sorry)

---------------------------------------------------------

Tags: @kimberbohwrites @cursed-nyxan @optimisticgrey @nw39 @charmedtenderness @alrendriablaze @dutifullylazybread @left4dead @heytheresunflower @purpleasters-inseptember @deianestormborn @victoria-strangelove