mutual manipulation .

a   low   ,   humorless   chuckle   slipped   from   the   tiefling   .   his   greyed   eyes   drifted   toward   the   illithid   ,   lingering   there   as   if   weighing   the   worth   of   dull   ,   lifeless   words   .   a   familiar   itch   beneath   the   skin   ,   (   beloved   tainted   sister   .   .   .   orin   .   )   .   their   bond   had   never   been   anything   so   simple   as   blood   ,   who   was   she   ,   but   the   remnants   of   a   failed   bhaalspawn   .

he   had   not   forgiven   it   (   the   sharp   pounding   pain   ,   the   hot   bile   raging   against   his   throat   ,   the   knife   splitting   him   true   )   .   he   would   not   .   no   .   .   .   the   dark   urge   would   see   her   broken   again   ,   bent   back   into   the   place   she   had   so   eagerly   abandoned   .   he   would   take   her   apart   piece   by   piece   ,   (   her   thumbs   strung   up   ,   a   center   piece   of   delicious   revenge   )   .   .   .   slow   ,   until   nothing   remained   .   ❝   .   .   .   our   .   .   .   meager   rivalry   is   not   merely   settled   in   blood   .   and   certainly   not   by   the   likes   of   you   .   ❞   (   never   a   puppet   again   ,   the   strings   were   his   to   hold   alone   )   .   ❝   you'd   have   me   choose   -   but   we   both   know   how   this   ends   .   i   want   them   both   dead   .   ❞

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐈—a thought tucked further into the recesses of the illithid’s mind. While he cares not to dig into the minds of his thralls, and especially not this one’s, he doesn’t trust that they’ll ignore his near pleas for… simple cooperation. They need at least one of them alive. If they both perish without so much of a breath of where the Absolute could be lurking, it’ll put them several steps behind their enemy—a misstep they can’t afford.

" How you dispose of your sibling is not of my concern, " he dismisses the notion with a slow sweep of the hand. Even if he was curious before, the Emperor knows better than to get in the gluttonous tiefling’s way, especially of a rivalry he states runs deeper than blood. Hands settle behind his back once more, the illithid calmly leans closer. " Nor of Gortash… All I ask of you is to allow at least one of them to utter a location where we may find the Absolute. You are aware of the consequences if we run out of time, yes? "

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ The aasimar's bloodshot eyes attempt to focus on the glass offered to them. An attempt was made to hold it, but they had to feel around for it first, their vision tripling any and all objects in sight. Their hand felt numb, but tingly, like they had slept on it all night-- their whole body felt like that. It took a bit of experimentally moving each digit to get it to feel normal enough that they felt confident to take the glass.

When they sat up, they huffed out of their nose, feeling mucus within the nostrils. Instead of taking the water, they turned away from the Emperor, and held one finger to their left nostril to hold it shut, then let out a sickening, bubbling, and sharp huff of air to clear it.

As soon as they did, purplish slimy chunks and red snot mixed with white and yellow mucus shot out, and landed in a heap on the opposite side of the table the Ulitharid stood on. He would have to walk around to get a better look, but the nasty display was the remnants (or at least some of the remnants) of the tadpole.

𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞 to drinking water. Their discombobulation is to be expected, hence the Emperor’s delicate aid to their being. What does intrigue him, though, is how their mental connection and their body must carefully reconnect—like a corpse reanimating. He quietly takes mental note of what to write down later...

" Yunae— " He starts, wanting to usher them back to try to take a sip. Only… hearing the carnage fly from their nostril is enough to make his stark, rigid brows wince. He’ll have to leave the heap for now and perhaps wait for Yunae to succumb to rest again before extracting it for further research. All little aspects and responses to this awakening are too valuable to disregard.

He sets the water beside them and motions away to collect a clean cloth from a nearby workstation. " I insist on drinking water. " When he returns to their side, he places his free hand onto the small of their back and places the cloth to their bloody nose. " Your body needs its nourishment after what you’ve endured. "

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 is to hopefully touch on my drafts that i owe on my sideblogs—yall have waited longgg enough

there   were   many   reasons   for   the   dark   urge’s   quiet   discontent   with   the   illithid   ,   and   yet   ,   he   remained   the   sole   cause   of   his   continued   ,   almost   miraculous   survival   on   the   road   to   baldur’s   gate   .   (   tension   lingered   between   them   )   ,   sharp   and   constant   .   two   monsters   ,   the   urge   wondered   .   .   .   (   who   was   the   bigger   one   ?   )   .   continued   dance   of   words   ,   threats   -   perhaps   even   deceptions   .   and   though   the   tiefling's   fractured   thoughts   and   restless   nightmares   had   been   laid   bare   before   the   emperor   ,   (   it   did   little   to   forge   anything   resembling   trust   )   .

❝   .   .   .   you   place   more   trust   in   gortash   ,   than   in   my   own   blood   kin   ,   orin   .   ❞   he   could   not   fault   him   .   not   when   she   was   the   one   who   shattered   his   skull   ,   (   who   carved   him   open   just   to   plant   that   parasite   within   )   .   ❝   but   perhaps   you   are   right   .   there’s   no   sense   in   cutting   ties   with   gortash   just   yet   -   not   when   he   seems   just   as   eager   to   see   orin   drowning   in   her   own   insides   .   ❞   a   familiar   wash   of   something   (   sickly   equal   )   happiness   flooded   his   mind   ,   stirred   by   broken   ,   lingering   memories   of   the   man   in   question   .

" …𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡. " He will meet his end. Not by his own hand, but by the Urge—or even Karlach.  Even with his strength and ability to take the dictator down himself, the Emperor still prefers self-preservation to his desire for revenge against the man.  In the grand scheme of things, he’s nothing but an annoying hurdle to torture and dismantle.

The illithid waves off his thoughts, dismissing the lingering annoyance building. Instead, his hand motions to cup the base of his tentacles—an oddly human act. " …Do you not wish to see your sibling drown by her own insides? " Admittedly, what their dynamic is, is of great interest to the Emperor. He doubts any truth would spill from her tongue, even as she lies on her deathbed. Which is why he’s favoring Gortash in this endeavor.

" What are you trying to prove? " - from emp!

"STOP PUTTING YOURSELF INTO DANGER!" PROMPTS

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ A fair question, considering they had just repeatedly cast Dissonant Whispers, a hand-crossbow bolt, and Psychic Blades in the fight to the point that their nose began to bleed and they felt light headed. As they staggered and leaned their back against the wall, they found it a bit hard to keep their balance, and slid down to sit.

That's when they heard the Emperor's voice from the Astral Prism. The others were busy checking the corpses of the Githyanki for anything useful, so they felt safe to mumble aloud.

"That I don't..." they trailed off as they stared down at their bloodied hands that they had used to wipe their nose.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲—causing the item to shake gently in their hands. What a disappointment. Yu-nae would be a perfect host for the Astral Tadpole. The embodiment of beauty and intelligence, and the perfect weapon against the Netherbrain.

" And what has… settled you on this idea? " He is aware of this recent fight, as he’s always watching his thralls tackle herculean tasks. Yet, he doesn’t press into their mind. The Emperor can sense their exhaustion, their determination… This small game of tug-of-war isn’t lost yet.

@empcrer asked : " until then, try not to die. " from x .

there   was   something   close   to   a   half-smile   on   the   dark   urge’s   face   ,   faint   and   fleeting   ,   as   his   greying   eyes   narrowed   just   enough   to   betray   a   hint   of   amusement   .   (   death   had   always   been   familiar   to   him   )   -   waiting   ,   reaching   from   every   corner   ,   and   he   had   delivered   countless   souls   into   its   grasp   without   hesitation   .   alas   ,   fate   had   split   his   thirst   for   bloodshed   -   (   leaving   him   with   a   parasite   in   his   skull   )   and   memories   fractured   ,   a   skull   split   ,   with   the   very   weapon   that   once   belonged   to   the   dark   urge   .

❝   .   .   .   you   still   underestimate   me   ?   if   i   had   a   heart   -   i   might   consider   it   hurt   .   ❞   a   rare   exchange   of   wit   ,   his   usual   stoic   demeanor   giving   way   ,   (   if   only   briefly   )   ,   to   something   almost   human   .   and   in   its   own   way   ,   it   felt   more   grotesque   than   anything   his   depraved   mind   usually   conjured   .

𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐭 with an inkling of amusement, but the illithid stares the Bhaal-spawn down with indifference. He cannot afford to treat this one like the other thralls. He’s a rabid animal, always to be treated like he’ll bite at a moment’s notice. As any misstep will guarantee a swift end to his plans—the only thing holding The Dark Urge back is the tadpole.

And yet, his mind is foggy on the details of why he chose Bhaal’s child for the aforementioned plans.

" Your abilities are… unmatched. " The Emperor narrows his gaze in slow contemplation. " I would hate for arrogance to diminish reason, and not only that… We need Gortash alive. " For now—the illithid has his own poisoned history with the man. Killing him when he holds much knowledge of the Absolute would be a waste. And yet, sending The Dark Urge may be a mistake.

Protective Sentences, Vol. 6

(Sentences for muses that are protective of another. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I have always been here, as I always will be."

"Will you stay with me? I feel safer with you."

"I've done all I can to protect you for as long as I can, but you just don't know how to quit."

"Come with me, and you will live. If you don't, I cannot guarantee your safety."

"Don't you, just for once in your life, want to be taken care of?"

"This world has taken so much from me, but in all my pain - even in my darkest days - I swore it would never take you."

"I don't want you doing this - for your own sake!"

"You're okay. You're safe now."

"Just promise me that if you get lost, we get lost together?"

"I never thanked you properly for coming to my defence the other day."

"I've failed a lot of people, but I'm not going to fail you."

"I never want to see you hurt. Not even a bruise."

"You're bleeding. Who did this?"

"I'm responsible for you! Don't you understand?"

"I don't need anyone to protect me, alright? I never have."

"Don't you trust me? Haven't I always kept you alive?"

"I wasn't there to protect you once. I won't make that same mistake again."

"I care about you. I want to make sure you're making the right decisions."

"No one will ever stop me taking care of you."

"I want you to show me who hit you yesterday."

"If you help me stop them, I'll do everything I can to keep this from hurting you."

"Where we're going, you won't have to hide."

"When have I ever let you down?"

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ "HCK!!" As the procedure began, they grit their teeth so hard they swore they could feel their enamel cracking, another problem for another time. The pain was excruciating, like a thousand needles piercing deep into their skull and scratching at their grey matter. Their muscles contracted, they could feel every nerve in their body shooting off, begging for it to stop.

Their eyes opened wide, vision nothing but a spinning blur, until black orbs rolled to the back of their head. Their body began to convulse, but the restraints held them fast and secure. They weakly uttered a cry, only for it to be cut mute into a frothy, gurgled groan. The right side of their face and body relaxed while the left side continued to spasm and twitch as the tadpole made its last moments desperately trying to keep its existence, until finally, it died.

Their left half relaxed and their right stopped drooping, their eyes closed, their consciousness was lost as their mind went utterly void of any thought. They stayed on the table, unmoving, for well over an hour, until their eyelids twitched with a semblance of consciousness.

"....Emp?" Tired, droopy eyes opened and shifted over to the Ulitharid standing over them. Their mouth opened weakly, mouthing out something silently for a moment, too tired to communicate verbally.

𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝. After 20 minutes with no immediate signs of the tadpole's survival or death, he dismissed his assistant. They retrieved some of his work from his office—including his ledgers and other documents. It’d give him something to do to pass the time since there was little he could do, aside from waiting and acting if need be.

So, when signs of consciousness begin to emerge, the Emperor closes his ledger and approaches the table with collected calm. The light above Yunae had been dimmed prior. He increases its intensity by a smidge to get a proper look at them without overstimulating their mind.

A hum encircles their mind with care, " That can be arranged. " He leans down, opening one of their eyes to look for any signs of ceremorphosis. Thankfully, there’s nothing aside from their ruptured blood vessels. He’ll document the current success in due time, but he’ll keep the bard here for a while just in case.

He straightens and ushers over a pitcher of water. Their arm restraints are released, and the Ulitharid motions his hand behind them so they may sit up. " Water should be considered first. " A glass is offered to them in hopes that their motor skills are intact, or at least recovering.

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ Their screaming and thrashing calmed down to quiet, sniffled sobbing and trembling when the Emperor casted Calm Emotions onto their mind.

Yunae tried to recollect what happened, why they were in this situation. They had been assisting the Flaming Fist, and underhandedly, helping the Emperor, round up some renegade remnants of the Absolute in Rivington. Most of the finer details was a blur, but they remembered getting pushed into a brine pool by a psychic blast, and coming up for air with a headache.

They were infected by an illithid tadpole, again. But this time, it wasn't one mangled and mutated by Netherese magic. They probably only had a few hours before their brain would be gone. The Aasimar would have started panicking again if that spell wasn't in effect.

Instead, when their Ulitharid companion stroked their cheek, quiet tears welled up in their eyes and ran down the side of their face.

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬 when their cold tears trickle against his hand. There’s no need to prod, to sift through the memories and understand. Desperation is an emotion not lost to him. Seeing them like this reminds him of hazy, desperate memories leading up to Baldur’s demise and being torn from his beloved Belynne.

A tentacle tenderly weaves across their palm. " I'll do what I must. "

There’s no time to waste. The Ulitharid retracts his hand and lifts it above the Aasimar. Psionic energy pulsates around the splayed digits, but Yunae would have little time to realize what’s about to conspire. Pain hits their mind like a thousand, electrified daggers– twisting and turning to stab into each nerve. Yet the actual assault is concentrated on the latched tadpole. He can feel it thrashing, squirming to escape, but he has it.

The Emperor’s head draws back, his assistant on the ready if anything were to fail. But, with the final thrust of psionic force, the tadpole’s mind melts, and it goes still.

He releases the energy. There’s a possibility it was too abrupt, but as far as he knows… Yunae’s mind will still be intact, in immeasurable pain, but still intact. Thus, he doesn’t expect them to respond. They’ll all know if it worked within an hour, it seems.