darkness borne.

An amused, velvety chuckle slipped past Mizora's lips at Hela's remark. "Oh, my magic has been sooo unstable lately…" she cooed, one hand fluttering dramatically to her chest in the most insincere of pouts. But the act crumbled fast, replaced with a sharp laugh, rich and unrepentant. "Let them think what they will. I do hope they walk away having learned something: no one crosses what's mine."

She followed Hela to her tent, the routine unfolding like clockwork — books opened, spines creaked, and without hesitation, Mizora slid close, an arm draped possessively around the aasimar's waist the moment she leaned into her. The tension she didn't even realize she carried began to unwind. Her tail stopped twitching. Her thoughts quieted. The infernal hum that always buzzed in the back of her mind softened to a murmur.

Something about this — this moments of calm, of stillness that didn't feel like a trap — tugged at the edges of her memory. Not the painful ones. Not the ones dripping with ambition, power, or blood. No, this was different. Gentle. Dangerous, even, in its unfamiliar nostalgic warmth.

She liked the silence when it was with Hela. Liked how the world stopped gnawing at her spine. And though she'd never say it aloud, not even to herself, Mizora knew this strange serenity wouldn't come with anyone else. She wouldn't let it. Hela had slipped under her skin, nestled in the marrow of her being, and Mizora would burn down the Hells twice over before letting anyone else claim that space.

The cambion could not hold back the smile as Hela's tail coiled around her thigh. She set her book aside with a quiet thud, eyes glittering. "My, my... someone's pleased to be near me." She purred, tracing a finger lazily along the length of the tail, catching its flicking tip gently between her fingers.

But then Hela joked about keeping the tail, and the air shifted.

Mizora's smile vanished.

She leaned in abruptly, ruby eyes sharp, her hand sliding from Hela's waist to seize her jaw and turning her face up to meet her gaze. "Excuse me?" She hissed, her voice low, trembling with something dark and wounded. "Am I not the one who's been in your bed since long before that appendage even had a thought of wagging at me?"

There it was — indignation, sharp and irrational, burning through her like wildfire. How dare Hela imply she preferred the tail's affection over her entire presence?

"If my performance isn't thrilling enough anymore, to the point you feel overlooked for a tail, do us both a favour and call it off!" She spat. The words were venom — but with every syllable, it felt like she was drinking the poison herself. Her chest tightened. Her breath caught. She... Didn't mean it.

No, that's... That's not what she wanted. Not what she wanted at all.

But pride was a stubborn devil.

Still clutching Hela's jaw, Mizora's other hand slid down the tail, fingers tightening at its base with a firm, possessive pull that was half-punishment, half-desperation. Only then did she release Hela's jaw, her palm drifting down to seize a breast — not gentle, not sweet, but with the fervour of someone marking territory. She needed to fix it somehow. She needed to let Hela know just how much she wanted her, how those previous words meant nothing.

"As if there's a single piece of you I'd leave unclaimed." she growled, the end of the words softening just slightly as her grip melted into a slow, almost hypnotic caress.

"As if each moment we are apart I don't yearn to touch you in ways no creature in the heavens or the hells ever dared..." Mizora murmured, voice low and trembling with a desire she didn't even try to mask. "As if all I can think about isn't my mouth learning every path of your skin until even my soul remembers your taste..."

Her hand slid downward once more, gliding over Hela's stomach with reverence and hunger alike, and kept going down until her fingers curled possessively around her thigh in a firm squeeze. Then, she dragged her hand slowly upward, stopping just short of Hela's groin, the anticipation deliberate, tentalizing.

Then Mizora lowered her head even more, lips brushing the delicate shell of Hela's ear, her voice dipping into a sultry whisper. "Keep it. Lose it. I couldn’t care less." She said, almost reverently. "Because no matter what, I will make you mine — completely, utterly, and without escape. Again. And again. And again..."

Hela is able to anticipate a lot and act accordingly, but having Mizora take her joke so seriously? She hadn’t anticipated that. Perhaps she should’ve known, considering how things had shifted since regaining part of her memories as Aurelia, how insecurities and uncertainties had crept in.. perhaps it makes sense that Mizora took this seriously.

“It was only a joke.” Her voice matched the surprise she felt, eyes wide as her jaw was seized and turned. She searched her expression, her eyes and only saw just how serious the cambion had taken it. Oh no. Her tail withdrew, instead finding its way around her own thigh, its happy flicking coming to a halt as tension took place instead.

The aasimar didn’t even attempt to hide her feelings, hurt breaking out in her entire expression as the words were spat at her. She lowered her eyes this time, unable to look at Mizora as her hand came up to free her chin, body already moving to get away from her. She wasn’t about to put up with this, not when she already has enough to put up with as is. Besides, nothing would ever get done when they’re both lit up.

But then Mizora’s hand found her tail, the base and Hela hissed in both pain and surprise as she was pulled back down and against the devil. Before she could even process, another hand reached her breast and whilst she wanted to get away before, Hela now wanted to melt into the other woman. She even arched into the touch, urging her to claim. She could feel that her former self adored this, even if Hela herself didn’t know what to think or do.

So, Hela simply listened, melting against the devil at the gentle caress, drawing her in deeper and deeper.. “Mizora..” What did she even aim when catching her attention? Did she want her to stop? Did she want her to go on? Her body seemed to have made the decision already, aching for her touch. She bit her lip in anticipation, barely able to keep herself still as her thigh was squeezed possessively, struggling even more so as it almost reached where she started to need her most.

Still, there was something else other than lust… growing stronger and stronger, until.. “Stop.” Her voice barely above a whisper as she turned, a vulnerability within her eyes as she turned – with difficulty – to face the other. Hands came up to cradle her cheeks, thumbs caressing.. and a memory resurfaced. A memory where she had held Mizora just like this, right after someone had attempted to cage her dear devil and take her powers. Apparently that moment had changed everything, for a few other memories of that same day resurfaced.. being chosen by Mystra as she refused to reveal Mizora’s true nature and kept taking the blame, a way of the goddess to protect her. A confrontation with her mother. Fleeing the city with Mizora and.. getting together.

A warm chuckle left her lips as Aurelia gently shook her head, appreciating the burn. A nice one, at that. “Always the flatterer, hm?” She turned her head lightly, observing the other woman even if she had told herself not to moments earlier. Aurelia bit her lip, attempting to keep herself from smiling and yet failing entirely.. as she did with so many things when it came to Mizora. “Good. You better.” Her sass definitely wasn’t going anywhere, nor was the scent on her favourite devil, it seems.. for her intentions before bath were made very clear.

Oh, how she wanted to melt into that dangerous embrace, let herself be carried and then touched in ways that would have her struggle to move for days, lost in remembrance and already craving more. “Is that so?” Voice betrayed her desire, but her stubbornness and sass overpowered it all as a quick use of misty step placed her way out of reach for Mizora. She smirks then, again, all defiance and challenge. “No, my love.. there will be no touching before you bathe. And I definitely will not lay in this bed until these sheets are crisp and clean.”

“Not flattery, darling... Just a simple, inescapable truth.” Mizora purred, her voice thick as velvet, lips already ghosting downward with the promise of a bite that would’ve definitely leave a mark — until, with an infuriating flash of light, Aurelia vanished.

The cambion blinked, left with empty air beneath her fingers. The nerve!

She huffed, a sharp, scandalized sound, before spinning on her heel to face her wayward wizard. “Now, now...” She barked a laugh, ruby eyes dancing with both amusement and affront. “And here I thought you weren't the jealous type.”

"Well, if you must know... You were not among them, so there wasn't enough." Mizora stalked forward, every movement languid and predatory until she dropped in a graceful, crawling glide, slinking to Aurelia’s feet. Her palms slid up the wizard’s legs with possession, settling firmly at her hips. Looking up from her place below, Mizora’s smile curved, slow, wicked, and absolutely unapologetic. “Shall I beg for forgiveness, then?”

Aurelia may as well have invented the dramatic eye roll with how perfectly she performed it, "ah yes, because I do better than ten people combined.. And you expect me to believe such?" She's not insecure, not at all, but she doesn't find it at all realistic and if Mizora truly thinks- oh.

She usually takes great pride in being unable to be surprised, always anticipating.. But Mizora is her one exception, proving such as she fell to her knees, touch possessive and an offer made to beg... Rendering the wizard speechless. Aurelia's mind went blank, her expression unable to hide her surprise. Now she could see why Mizora enjoyed having her on her knees.. The perfect sight right there, forever wanting to be memorised.

That was... Fast.

Faster than Mizora expected, really. Did she teleported her way here?

If that was the case, Mizora was positively delighted — and thoroughly intrigued. She blinked, a rare moment of genuine surprise flashing in those crimson eyes, whether at Aurelia's dramatic entrance or the sharpness of her tongue, she couldn’t quite decide.

With a purr of laughter, she drifted toward the balcony. “Oh, please. They’d have to sell their souls twice to even mimic a cheap knock-off version of you,” she scoffed, voice sweet as poisoned honey. “But if you insist, I suppose I can bathe before we cuddle and kiss.”

She came up behind Aurelia, arms slipping around her like silk, voice a low promise in her ear. “And as for the scent…” Mizora pressed closer, all smug warmth and dark intent. “Give it a moment, darling. Soon, it won't matter at all...”

A light nibble in her earlobe follows, along with a sultry whisper: "Because I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name."

A warm chuckle left her lips as Aurelia gently shook her head, appreciating the burn. A nice one, at that. “Always the flatterer, hm?” She turned her head lightly, observing the other woman even if she had told herself not to moments earlier. Aurelia bit her lip, attempting to keep herself from smiling and yet failing entirely.. as she did with so many things when it came to Mizora. “Good. You better.” Her sass definitely wasn’t going anywhere, nor was the scent on her favourite devil, it seems.. for her intentions before bath were made very clear.

Oh, how she wanted to melt into that dangerous embrace, let herself be carried and then touched in ways that would have her struggle to move for days, lost in remembrance and already craving more. “Is that so?” Voice betrayed her desire, but her stubbornness and sass overpowered it all as a quick use of misty step placed her way out of reach for Mizora. She smirks then, again, all defiance and challenge. “No, my love.. there will be no touching before you bathe. And I definitely will not lay in this bed until these sheets are crisp and clean.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (usft dialouge prompts)

❝ i’m not letting you sleep tonight. ❞

❝ i want to wreck you so good you forget your own name. ❞

❝ don't hold back i want it all. ❞

❝ you started this. now finish it. ❞

❝ get over here and take it. ❞

❝ you look better underneath me. ❞

❝ i’m going to ruin you for anyone else. ❞

❝ be a good thing and open up for me. ❞

❝ let me hear how much you need it. ❞

❝ i want to memorize every sound you make. ❞

❝ you're shaking already? we’re just getting started. ❞

❝ strip. now. ❞

❝ i’m going to have you begging for mercy. ❞

❝ you make the prettiest sounds when you break. ❞

❝ spread your legs for me. ❞

❝ you look so pretty when you’re desperate. ❞

❝ stay still or i’ll make you. ❞

❝ you’re not allowed to come until i say so. ❞

❝ don’t think. just feel. ❞

❝ tell me how bad you need it. ❞

❝ you're not leaving this bed until i'm done with you. ❞

❝ you look so good when you're falling apart. ❞

❝ i’m going to leave you trembling. ❞

❝ stay nice and loud for me, sweetheart. ❞

❝ such a needy little thing, aren’t you? ❞

❝ i want every last drop of you. ❞

❝ no one else gets to see you like this. only me. ❞

❝ i’ll go slow... if you beg. ❞

❝ don’t even think about holding back your moans. ❞

❝ if you can still think, i’m not doing it right. ❞

❝ this isn’t over until you’re completely ruined. ❞

❝ you’re going to take everything i give you. ❞

❝ i’m not stopping until you're shaking and crying for me. ❞

❝ hands behind your back. i want to control everything. ❞

❝ so needy. so messy. so perfect. ❞

❝ you're dripping already? god, you’re filthy. ❞

❝ say you're mine while i ruin you. ❞

❝ you’re going to be sore tomorrow and you’ll be begging for more. ❞

❝ i’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget how to breathe. ❞

❝ look at you, falling apart just for me. ❞

❝ cry for me. i want to see it. ❞

❝ you’ll be thinking about this every time you touch yourself. ❞

❝ you're not allowed to come until you’re crying. ❞

❝ you don't get to decide when it's over. i do. ❞

❝ i’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name. ❞

❝ let me see you lose control. ❞

The haze of perfumed smoke curled around Mizora as she lounged against the edge of the satin-draped dais, flicking ash into the candlelit, watching the swirl of bodies before her. All around, limbs entwined in a tangle of heat and breath — at least a dozen of them — warm skin slick with desire, the musky scent of arousal thick in the air, punctuated by whispered gasps and the soft rustle of shifting silk. Every joint and sinew writhed in pleasure, yet in her own body only impatience thrived.

She exhaled another plume of smoke, eyes half‑lidded, scanning the tableau as if it were an ill‑conceived play. The tremor of thighs, the damp press of torsos, the promise in each heated sigh were undeniably intoxicating… But not enough to hold her attention.

Yes, the doe‑eyed brunette from earlier managed to follow instructions well enough. But it wasn’t her. Not by a long shot. Everything felt so half-hearted: the over-eager poses, the weak moans, the rhythm was all wrong. It lacked that fierce devotion Mizora craved — the tremor in each kiss, the shuddering whimpers that spoke of genuine desperation under her touch, the roaming hands eager to have her closer, no matter what.

She’d been indulging in dark‑haired, petite women more frequently these days, chasing that fleeting spark… Yet every time she settled for one of them, her thoughts slipped back to Aurelia. As if no one else could truly sate her hunger.

How utterly tedious. Mizora thought with a snarl. And how... Disconcerting.

The cambion stood up in a sharp, sudden motion, cutting through the haze of sweat and smoke. "That's enough," she snapped, voice like a whipcrack as she gave a loud, sharp, commanding clap of her hands. "Gather your clothes, darlings. We're finished."

Around her, the entangled limbs and flushed faces of the orgy untangled in confusion. A few blinked up at her, dazed and unsure, while others sat up abruptly, eyes wide.

"What? Finished?" one man stammered, breathless and still half-hard. "But—"

"If there’s something specific you want, mistress," purred a lithe tiefling woman, crawling closer on all fours, "you only need to tell us. We can adjust. We can please you. Just say the word."

"Yes," another chimed in, her voice desperate. "Whatever it is we’ll follow it. You only have to command."

But Mizora’s ruby gaze was distant, distracted, already leagues away from the pile of willing bodies and perfumed arousal. Her wings flicked once in irritation. For the first time she regretted using her infernal charm for personal indulgences.

“Sweet things,” she drawled, already walking off to open the door. “You could reenact the Nine Layers with perfect choreography and it still wouldn’t do the trick.”

With a languid flick of her wrist, she stubbed out her cigarette, tail flicking with bored annoyance as she held the door open. “Honestly,” she murmured under her breath, “I simply expected more from you.”

The sharp motion of her head that followed conveyed a clear message: Out. Now.

She didn’t even wait for them to scramble for their clothes. Let them fumble and gawk, she had more important things to tend to.

She grabbed her silken robe from the chaise, wrapping it around her as she made her way to her boudoir, plucking a fine quill and a piece of fresh parchment from her lacquered desk. Ink shimmered as she dipped the tip, and then began to write in a sweeping, perfect handwriting:

Dearest Aurelia,

I’ve secured new lodgings within the city, something with a bit more charm, a bit more height, and a rather breathtaking view of the ocean. You’ll find the sound of the waves quite soothing when one needs clarity… Or company.

I would be delighted if you visited. The place feels awfully spacious without a sharp tongue and clever mind to fill the air.

With anticipation, M.

She sealed it with a kiss of fire and her personal sigil, eyes narrowing fondly at the parchment as she retrieved a slender strand of fine copper wire from her vanity, twisting it between her fingers and murmuring the incantation for the Sending spell. Her eyes glowed briefly with infernal light as she whispered the message into the weave of magic. The words shimmered into the ether, racing across planes to find Aurelia’s mind.

"Let’s see if this pulls you in, little orchid."

Aurelia had been spending time grading essays and honestly, that always sours her mood. There’s some talents in becoming, yes, but most are just.. mediocre at best. Where is the passion? The talent? The outstandingly crisp solutions that would have The Weave quiver in desire to be channelled? With a sigh, Aurelia flings the last essay to the edge of her desk as she rushes her hands through her hair. If only.. Oh.

A small smile appeared, eyes closing as she savoured the sound of Mizora’s voice, leaning back into her chair to fully indulge. Right at the moment she needed her most… when absolutely bored to death. She could feel that pull towards Mizora, her smile only growing and.. well, she’s finished anyways.

She had been quick to get through the city, spells aiding in quickly making her way through, having used a locating spell just before leaving to find her way to her favourite cambion. Not once has Aurelia worried about seeming desperate, always quick and eager, and now was no different. Too quick, perhaps, for an eyebrow raised in surprise when she eventually reached Mizora’s room and saw two women emerge who.. somewhat resembled her. Both very dark brown hair, not raven as her own.. blue eyes, instead of blue-purple and both around her own height, petite. How amusing.

With this knowledge, Aurelia completely ignored their questioning looks when she casually strolled into Mizora’s room and closed the door behind her. “Fancy place you’ve got, darling, only a shame that the air reeks of sex instead of being filled with.. what did you call it? Ah, a sharp tongue and a clever mind.” She looked around, eyes falling to messes of silk and what could definitely be identified as.. certain bodily fluids. Arousal, sweat and heat still thick in the air; almost nauseating. It wasn’t jealousy, not really, they’ve spoken of this before and Aurelia knows she cannot keep the cambion happy on her own. She’s but a mere mortal, after all. But being confronted with this, well.. that may cause just a bit of a struggle. By Mystra's Weave.. Mizora did look absolutely gorgeous though. Perched right there, as if she absolutely owned the place and the world itself. Almost enough to knock the breath right out of her lungs.

"Hush now, my little orchid..." Mizora whispered, her voice barely a breath as her finger tapped softly against Aurelia's lips, meaning to still the girl's eagerness. Oh, how it ignited her, but this wasn’t a moment to be lost in haste. No, she wanted Aurelia to remember this — to ache for it, to dream of it, to carry the memory of Mizora's touch like a fever in her bones. And to beg her for more. "Don't rush," she murmured, voice velvety and full of longing. "Just relax..."

She leaned in again, her lips brushing Aurelia’s in a kiss so slow and soft it ached with restraint. A playful, tender nibble followed, before her mouth drifted lower to place a kiss on the curve of her chin, then another just beneath it, and another, each one slick and hot as she traced down the line of Aurelia's neck. Her hand rose, cradling a breast in her palm, fingers caressing in a motion as reverent as it was yearning.

Her thumb traced the nipple with a slow, circling motion, delicate and reverent, before capturing it in the faintest pinch — just enough to draw a breath, a reaction. Mizora’s lips followed soon after, pressing a kiss against the tender skin with a near-devotional softness. She lingered there, her tongue flicking ever so slightly, teasing with deliberate care, while her blue eyes lifted to fix on Aurelia’s face — searching, savouring, drinking in every flicker of emotion like it was the sweetest of offerings.

Her other hand wandered gently over Aurelia’s body — her chest, her stomach — tracing the soft lines of her scars like she was trying to memorize the shape of Aurelia's body with touch alone, as if trying to worship and savour her all at once.

When her hand drifted lower and brushed against the slick warmth pooling between Aurelia’s thighs, Mizora let out a soft, satisfied moan that could easily be mistaken for a purr. She didn't press, didn't push. Only grazed her fingertips softly across the wet skin, barely parting her folds... A delicate whisper of contact, just enough to be felt, just enough to tease.

Ah. So, Aurelia wanted to stake her claim in the world.

Mizora wasn’t surprised — she’d seen the signs long before the girl put it into words. Humans were predictable like that, especially the magically inclined ones. They didn’t just want power; they wanted legacy. Recognition. A name etched in history, whispered in awe long after their frail little bodies had turned to dust.

Aurelia, for all her wit and confidence, just admitted she was no different. Sharp, yes. Talented, certainly. But still bound by that human affliction: the frantic tick of mortality gnawing at their heels. She was aware of it, perhaps more than most, and that made her… Exploitable.

A short life was a desperate one, and desperate mortals made for such exquisite opportunities.

But those were thoughts for later, a leverage to be explored in another moment. Because right now... Oh, right now there were other priorities.

Very few kisses had ever made Mizora close her eyes. Fewer still had stirred something deep and warm beneath her skin. But this one... From a woman both untried and unafraid, was different. There was a rawness in the way Aurelia surrendered to her, yes, but also a hunger, an eagerness that danced btween innocence and desire. It wasn’t clumsy. It wasn’t timid. It felt like discovery, and it made Mizora feel like she was the treasure.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been someone’s first. Most of her conquests were seasoned, jaded creatures looking for pleasure or power, draped in fake sweetness like a costume. Easy to break. Easier to bend. And in the end, they always wore the misery they’d intended to give her.

But Aurelia… She wasn’t pretending. There was no mask, no game. Just truth. And that truth lit a fire so hot in Mizora's chest it almost hurt.

This one was special.

And by all the layers of Baator, she wanted more.

Mizora wasn’t sure when her breath caught — only that it did, sharp and unexpected, the moment Aurelia’s hands began their slow journey along her back, her touch so gentle they made her skin prickle. She could feel the shift in Aurelia’s body beneath her, the way her hips twitched up, drawing her closer with the subtlest, neediest pressure.

And then—

“You want this too, right? We can stop if you don’t.”

Mizora’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice — so soft, tugging at something buried deep within her. She met Aurelia’s gaze with an unique mixture of disbelief and wonder, as if unsure whether the words were meant for her at all.

A quiet laugh escaped her, gentle and almost shy.

"There’s nothing I want more in this moment." She whispers as her fingers brushed Aurelia’s cheek, the gesture tender, almost awed.

She leaned in, her lips finding the curve of Aurelia’s neck, then trailing lower in slow kisses pressed all the way down to her collarbone. Her fingers glided gently along her waist, pausing when they brushed over a subtle ridge in the skin. A scar? Mizora stilled for a breath, then lowered her lips, placing a tender kiss on the mark. And there, just beside it, was another. Then another. Faint scars in different sizes and forms, woven across her skin like a secret tapestry.

Mizora’s tongue followed the path of them, tracing delicately, savouring as if they were sacred. Her hands held Aurelia close, not as a conquest, but as something rare. Precious. Chosen.

For once, it wasn’t about power.

It was about her.

The devil had spent countless nights crafting personas, seducing nobles, pretending to laugh at their unimpressive drivel, faking smiles and orgasms and weaving webs around mortals too drunk on power to notice they were being wrapped tight. But this... Wasn't a performance anymore. And Mizora didn't know exactly what to do with that yet.

The warmth of her touch, the look in her eyes — like Mizora was something holy and untouchable, and yet desired beyond reason — sent a flutter straight to her core. Her chest tightened, her lips parted. She couldn't even remember if someone had ever reached for her like this. Not to possess. Not to use. But to meet her. To know her. To draw her in and say stay.

And Mizora, ever in control, ever the one to press and prod and push, now found herself aching to obey, to serve, to give in just what she needed.

The pain was... Not the worst she ever felt, but definitely a nuisance.

Raw. Crude. Mortal. The glyphs beneath her pulsed in a dull, sickly blue, searing into her skin with every beat of her heart like they were carving through her essence. Carving through her soul.

She writhed, jaw clenched to stifle the sound she refused to make. But the scream still clawed at her throat.

Her glamour had long since faded out, burned away by the holy incantations etched in chalk, salt and silver, exposing her true form. Horns bared. Wings splayed at her sides. Tail limp on the ground like a broken thing. She looked — and felt — wretched.

How did this happen?

She'd walked into the trap with a smirk and a plan, thinking she was the one weaving the web. Exchanged glares. A few poisonous words. The blackmail threats none of them could actually pull.

And then—

The bastard had drawn the circle beneath her feet.

She should have known. She did know. There were signs, off notes in the air, odd pauses in his speech. But she dismissed them. She thought she could outsmart them. She got cocky.

Worse, she got lazy.

And now she was pinned like an insect under glass, her power bleeding into the glyphs as the wizard circled her slowly, lips moving softly, his voice low, cold and methodical.

She wanted to spit. To curse him into oblivion. To laugh in his face and promise retribution in fire and ruin...

But her limbs trembled. Her wings twitched, cramping. Her breath came in shallow, hissing gasps.

And the worst part?

He wasn't even worthy.

Not some Archmage of legend. Not a bright, promising soul with fire in their heart and potential to reshape the world. And certainly not the only mortal she'd ever deemed worthy of possessing her, body and soul. The only one she'd ever wanted to give herself to.

No. Just some gaunt, wide-eyed scholar dinosaur who saw her as a trophy.

You're not even special, she thought bitterly, glaring up at him through strands of sweat-soaked hair. You'll never deserve me. You'll never break me. And hells take you if you think this ends with you holding my leash.

Her pride screamed louder than her nerves.

But the ritual was still far from over.

Hours still remained. Hours where her essence would be pulled apart, thread by thread, and stitched back into a cage of someone else's design.

But she stayed silent.

Because she would survive this.

And someday, she would be free again.

And when that day comes, she would burn the name of this wretch into the bones of the Nine Hells as a warning:

Never. Underestimate. Me.

Would Aurelia even remember her by then? Hells, she hoped so. She'd make sure of it — she'd brand herself into that brilliant little mind if she had to. And what if Aurelia hated her by then, convinced she'd been left behind, abandoned? Then Mizora would have to seduce her all over again. Even if Aurelia was grey and wrinkled by the time it happened, she'd still be hers. Mizora would make sure of it.

And if she wasn't here anymore… No. No, she refused to even let the thought take shape.

She wouldn't take that long.

Oh, her mind raced with all the painful ways she'd make this fool suffer for daring to chain her like some lesser creature.

Bold thoughts. Steel-clad resolve. But even the sharpest blade dulls under pressure, and Mizora was being drained, slowly like sand bleeding from a shattered hourglass. The glyphs scorched her skin, ancient words carving into her very essence, dragging her down, down, down…

And that fire dimmed as her strength ebbed, replaced by something quieter, heavier... Saudade.

Aurelia.

The way her arms wrapped around her as if Mizora were something precious. Her smile, warm as a hearth in the cold. Her scent, the one that lingered on her skin and crept into her dreams. She could almost feel her fingers ghosting over her face, whispering that all is going to be fine.

There were no tears. No begging. No prayers. Devils weren't granted mercy through faith or desperation. And she'd soon bite her own tail off than to let this worm see her crying. No, she would not give him the pleasure to see her break.

And then—

A voice.

Soft and fierce at the same time, a peculiar and familiar blend that only one person could muster.

Mizora thought it was a trick of her mind. An hallucination to torment her with what she'd never have again. But when she raised her head, trembling and wide-eyed, and there she was.

Aurelia.

A foreign, almost forgotten feeling surged like a blossom on a spring morning. Was it... Hope? Mizora had been born alone, survived alone, climbed and clawed and conquered alone. She had always assumed she would also meet her end alone. But Aurelia...

She came for her.

No one ever had. No one ever would have.

And Mizora, shattered and scorched and aching, wanted to fall into her arms and never let go.

The tension between them was so thick she could feel the storm building, and she knew, without a doubt, it would erupt soon.

And then it happened.

A flicker. A flash. One heartbeat, the wizard was standing tall, chest puffed with arrogance, his voice sharp and filled with threats. The next...

Gone.

All that remained of the man was a bloody, pulpy mess at Aurelia’s feet, a heap of gore so utterly undone, it almost looked like the remnants of something that had never truly been whole to begin with.

Mizora's breath caught in her throat. The power, the swift, brutal finality of it — Aurelia had never looked more dangerous, more beautiful, than in that moment. The raw, undeniable force of what she could do, unrestrained...

It was intoxicating.

"You're marvelous..." Mizora's chest tightened, and she didn't want to look away, even when Aurelia looked like she could faint at any given moment. Many would argue that this was the wrong moment and place to feel aroused, yet desire hit her like wildfire, searing through pain and reason alike. Oh, how she wanted to reach out and kiss her... If only her limbs didn't feel so heavy...

"The crystal..." Mizora rasped, her voice hoarse, scraping her throat like glass. "Graz'zt's cock, you shattered it..." A trembling breath. She forced a weak smile through the ache. "Hurry, replace it. Your necklace will do. Finish the ritual, darling... before I fall apart."

With all dismantled, the wizard for once in her life showed surprising physical strength as she fell to one knee, clumsily drew the cambion in closer and then lifted her over her shoulder. Surely, this was a once in a lifetime event, but she mustered all of her strength to stand up and pull Mizora away from the holy water and salts, desperate to not see her hurting anymore. Only once at a safe proximity, did she gently lower her back onto the ground whilst her own body trembled from exertion. Perhaps she should focus more on physical training in the future……. Probably not.

By the burning pits of Avernus, Aurelia was a vision, especially like this. So determined, even as her strength faltered and her breath came in broken gasps. Mizora leaned in, her voice a velvet purr against her flushed skin. "What's the matter, darling? I was under the impression that rest was beneath you..."

The cambion smiled, slow and indulgent as pleasure built and she left herself to be carried away by the symphony of those delicious hoarse moans. She could feel every little shudder and palpitation thanks to a most clever touch: Aurelia's spell to enhance the sensitivity on her tail... She'd have to coax the wizard into trying it again… in far more interesting places.

She reached up, brushing damp strands of hair from Aurelia's face, fingers ghosting over her flushed cheeks, her sweat-dappled temple. Those trembling fingers clutching the pillow, the haze in her eyes, the faint, breathless sound of her name — it was intoxicating.

Wet heat spilled onto Mizora's tail, trailing down in shivering waves that soaked the sheets beneath them. The sudden release — and the way Aurelia's focus shattered with a gasp so raw and exquisite — was nothing short of divine.

Mizora threw her head back and laughed, a low, sultry sound full of pride and a dark amusement. "Look at you," she whispered, with something dangerously close to reverence. "My precious, breathtaking thing..."

Slowly, Mizora slid her tail free from Aurelia’s body and brought it to her lips without hesitation, her tongue trailing along it, tasting the other woman's pleasure with a low, delighted hmm.

Mizora leaned in, voice like silk, thick with possession and glee. "Oh? You can speak yet?" she murmured, brushing her lips against Aurelia’s flushed cheek. "I guess I'll have to change that. I want that brilliant mind of yours empty. I want you to be nothing but a drooling, trembling mess underneath me."

She trailed her fingers along Aurelia's jaw, tilting her chin up to look right at her eyes. "And I won’t stop, my little orchid... Not until I've ruined you completely."

Mizora's hand slid down, fingers curling around the soft curve of Aurelia's thigh as she hooked one leg up and over her own. She aligned their bodies, her groin pressed firmly against Aurelia's like a wickedly intimate knot. The press of skin against skin, the tension of muscles shifting as she slowly began to rock her hips... It was perfection.

The cambion's hand suddenly closed around Aurelia's throat in a possessive grasp. Mizora’s voice was a growl, low and dangerous. "There we go... Just where you belong."

The cambion pressed down her own clit against Aurelia's, chasing the friction she craved, and not in a gentle way. Her breath was low, ragged, as she gripped Aurelia's throat tighter. Every flex, every grind was intent to push Aurelia past her limits as much it was for her own indulgence now, the pursuit of satisfaction written in the way her body moved — unrestrained, focused, and utterly consumed.

A soft growl escaped her lips. Oh, for how long she wanted this. She needed it. She needed her.

❝ you occupy my thoughts. day and night, even in dreams you're there. i want you to never stop haunting me. ❞

❝ i am eternally yours. until the stars go out. and maybe, even after that. ❞

❝ my heart bleeds the color of your soul. i would cut it out and put it in your palms if i could. ❞

❝ it's like you have knit yourself around my ribs. i could no more cut you out than i could remove my own lungs. ❞

❝ you are woven into my soul and i dare not cut a single thread. ❞

❝ i am yours, body and soul, to do with as you wish. ❞

❝ i don't require you to love me back, or to care for me as i do you. only let me be here, let me devote myself to you. that would be enough. ❞

❝ i want to trap your smile in a bottle and take it out when no one else can see. ❞

❝ you belong to me and i to you. ❞

❝ do not look away from me. i cannot bear it when i do not occupy your vision. ❞

❝ i will follow you. to the ends of the earth, to the very gates of hades and whatever might lay beyond. ❞

❝ i will always be here. no matter how far you go you can always come home to me. ❞

❝ tell me all the places you have been hurt, every rejection, every scar. let me love you in all the places where you have burned. ❞

❝ i will not ever let you go. ❞

❝ you cannot escape this. you cannot run away from the love we share. ❞

❝ what we have is deeper than words could capture. ❞

❝ i will be anything you desire. i pluck out the parts of me you find distasteful and stuff your love in the craters left behind. ❞

❝ tell me what you wish of me and i will do it. ❞

❝ i could spend all day merely watching the air in your lung. i would count every blink. i would cherish every sigh from your lips. i could watch you merely exist for the rest of my life. ❞

❝ don't let go of me. i think if you lost me i would die. ❞

❝ i will cut out the tongues of every man who has wronged you. ❞

❝ i wish i could crawl inside you and make a home out of the hollows of your bones. ❞

ACTIONS:

WATCH: for sender to watch receiver sleep.

WATCHED: for sender to wake up and find receiver watching over them.

DISCOVER: for sender to find a journal full of sketches receiver made of them and sender finds them looking at it.

DISCOVERED: for receiver to find a journal full of sketches receiver made of them.

FOLLOW: for sender to stalk receiver, claiming they're doing it to protect them.

FOLLOWED: for receiver to stalk sender and claim they're protecting them.

GOING: for sender to take receiver to a secluded cabin for a romantic getaway.

GONE: for receiver to take sender to a secluded cabin for a romantic getaway.

SACRIFICE: for sender to kill someone who wronged receiver as a grand gesture.

SACRIFICED: for receiver to kill someone who wrong sender as a grand gesture.

CAUGHT: for sender to catch receiver staring at them.

CATCHING: for receiver to catch sender staring at them.

REVEAL: for sender to slowly undress themselves while receiver watches, but doesn't touch.

REVEALED: for receiver to slowly undress themselves while sender watches, but doesn't touch.

BATHE: for sender to bathe receiver, meticulously and tenderly as if serving them.

Shadowheart leaned against the wood trunk, swirling her wine with a smirk. "You know, it’s almost impressive," she drawled, eyes flicking to Hela’s tail at a distance, as it gave an unintentional twitch. "She’s already not of much help, but now she’s got a built-in tripwire. How long do you think before she strangles herself with it?"

Astarion, lounging beside her, hummed in faux consideration. "Oh, I’d give it a week. Two, if she miraculously avoids getting it caught in a door. Though, really, the odds of her tripping over it and plummeting off a cliff are much higher." He paused, casting a glance at Hela's direction, then added with a grin, "Honestly, I’m almost rooting for it. Imagine — betrayal by her own tail. The irony! Delicious."

Shadowheart snorted. "I’d almost feel bad."

Astarion lets out a laugh. "I wouldn’t."

The air crackled in a spark of arcane static, as reality itself hiccupped around Mizora. A ripple of raw, untamed magic seemed to surge from nowhere and everywhere at once, twisting the weave. The temperature shifted, light bent at odd angles, and for the briefest moment, everything smelled faintly of burnt sugar and ozone.

Then the magic snapped back into place, and where two insufferable adventurers once stood, there were now two very confused, very furry little rodents. Mizora let out a slow, delighted chuckle, watching tiny whiskers twitch in disbelief. Oh, this was too good.

Mizora clasped her hands together, feigning the most insincere gasp of shock as the two tiny, furious rats squeaked indignantly at her feet. "Oh, dear me," she drawled, crouching down with a wicked grin. "Did I do that? My, my, such a careless little slip of magic. Who knew your bodies were so eager to match your personalities?"

Astarion, now an irate little white rat, bared his tiny teeth. Shadowheart, dark-furred and fuming, twitched her whiskers in pure rage.

"Oh, come now, no need to be ratty about it." Mizora reached out and flicked Astarion’s tail, snickering as he scrambled away with an offended chitter. She sighed dramatically, standing tall. "I suppose I could fix it... Eventually. Until then, darlings, do try not to strangle yourselves with those adorable little tails… Or even plummet off a cliff. Tragic, truly. I'd be devastated." Mizora smirked, absolutely unconvincing in her feigned concern, before turning on her heel and sauntering toward Hela with the satisfaction of a job well done.

Oh, if only she could be just a little less civil to these nobodies. If only they knew just how powerful she truly is, how she has to work to keep herself controlled with the Shadow Weave bubbling right beneath the surface, urging to be used.. If they thought they could hurt her with their petty words, they are deeply wrong though. Hela is simply offended by the audacity that they thought they could simply speak to her like that. Even if she’s been on better terms with both Mystra and Shar, she used to be the Chosen of one and is an Aasimar of the other.. and they? They are absolutely nothing. Hela’s tail flicked in barely controlled rage, betraying the fact that she was far more annoyed by this than her neutral expression let on. That fucking tail..

But then.. Hela recognised it instantly, whereas Astarion and Shadowheart needed time to catch up. But before they could, the wild and raw magic had already done the damage, leaving Hela to arch a brow in deep amusement. Oh. Her arms crossed over her chest, the corner of her lip quirking up in a half-smirk as she watched the situation unfold. Admittedly, her heart sped up not just a little, but a lot. Mizora did this for her, to defend her. Hela knows just as well as she does that the Shadow Weave protects the cambion from wild surges of magic, and that knowledge only made this situation sweeter. In fact, Hela found herself actually swooning over this little display..

Her eyes found Mizora’s as she turned and sauntered over, the amusement in her eyes partially overtaken by.. adoration. It never fails to amuse her that Shar’s punishment only brought them closer. In fact, it forced her mask off and in turn, also offered Mizora the safety to take off hers. They were closer than ever, shown also by Hela’s tail wagging intensely and excitedly again just because Mizora made her way over, causing the person attached to it to playfully roll her eyes. “My, my.. The knight in shining armour saves the damsel in distress once again.. thank you, darling.” The only reason she’s here anyways, is because of Mizora. Well, and that crown. The same that has drawn Gale’s attention, though he’d never in his mortal life get to grasp it.. it belongs to Hela and only her. She would break free from Shar at some point and after that, she would blast Zariel far away from Mizora. They would be able to do whatever they wanted to do, finally, together. “That little display was.. hot.”

Hela reaches up with her arms, wrapping them around Mizora’s neck whilst her tail softly smacked against Mizora’s leg over and over in pure excitement. She tugged her down for a quick, soft kiss. “You know, if anything, my tail will probably end up strangling you instead of me. I can’t keep it away from you.” Just like the rest of her couldn’t stay away. “Whatever will they do then? They may think me to be useless.. but they’re useless in comparison to you. You’re about the only reason they’ve made it this far.”

Her hands slid down gently, along the woman’s arms, to her hands where she gently pulled her away and towards their tent. Soon, they would have to sleep, meaning Hela had to face Shar and.. well, she preferred some distraction before that. And that’s how they ended up in their tent, books in hand like they’ve done plenty of times in the past.

Hela watched as her tail flicked happily, still getting used to the sight and sensation of having one. Said tail quickly became a source of amusement and endearment for Mizora and thus, Hela no longer attempted to hide it or its intense expression.

In any case, she did attempt to distract herself by focusing on the book she was holding whilst also allowing herself to fall back against Mizora's chest, burying the back of her head between her breasts.. with a sneaky smirk to go along with it. Her favourite spot indeed. "I can never keep it still when I'm with you." Hela noted with a soft chuckle, eyes flicking up to her tail again and seeing it still flicking about excitedly. Finally, she urged her new limb down, where it found Mizora's thigh instead. It immediately wrapped around for comfort and yet.. The tip still kept flicking just as happily. Really, now?