UwU

He would say it was like looking into a mirror, but, in his experience, reflections did not move independent of the subject peering into the glass. Nor did they actually speak.

" I...yes? " Halsin did not intend his response to inflect upward in question. Though, as his hair rose on the back of his neck and arms, instinct placed him on edge. The sudden appearance of a portal dumping someone or something out of its maw was concerning enough, but for that someone to look and sound exactly like him only heightened that consternation.

Was this a doppleganger? Some manner of changeling? If so, why take on his appearance?

For the moment, the druid remained seated near his campfire, though he shifted the twining, gnarled branches that composed his staff to lie horizontal across his lap. His gaze remained fixed upon the "stranger."

"I can't say for sure what's going on," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Halsin glanced back just in time to see the portal wink out of existence, taking any chance of returning home with it. Anxiety gnawed at him, marrow-deep, but it wouldn't help to panic before he even understood what was going on. "I came from the Sword Coast, maybe..." A quick look around told him that he was indeed in familiar territory. "Maybe forty miles northwest. I had been tracking the source of a curse plaguing the local deer population, when..."

The  question  goes  unasked,  but  the  cuts  do  sting.  Puck  feels  the  flesh  break  &  sew  itself  back  together,  the  stitching  twice  as  painful  as  the  wound.

Whatever  the  reason  for  his  regeneration,  it  must  have  followed  him  from  his  previous  life  into  this  one.  Puck  always  bites  his  tongue  instinctively  when  struck,  expression  still  as  stone.

He  shrugs.  ❝  Maybe  there's  more  than  one  vampire  in  camp  ?   ❞

That  doesn't  seem  quite  right,  but  there  are  a  few  similarities  between  himself  &  Astarion.  If  he  squints.  Being  a  vampire  was  probably  too  easy  of  an  explanation  for  his  existence,  though.

Puck  frowns  at  his  hand  as  if  it  had  misbehaved  somehow.  ❝  That  druid  we're  supposed  to  find  is  a  healer.  He  might  know  something, I guess.  ❞

They love their work, and there was a surprising demand for curses to be broken and enchantments to be woven throughout the city- but as much as they adore their unnamed little shop of oddities, they are a selfish ( and rather lovestruck ) individual. They'd shut the door on any customer without a word of warning if Wyll asked them to. But she would not, of course she would not, so Iago makes the call themselves.

Wyll sat up straighter and searched the set of their mouth for a twist of humor or uncertainty. Iago worked hard, clearly passionate about the shop, and the last thing Wyll wanted was to impose. She wasn't exactly skilled at understanding how running a business worked, but, then again, Iago wouldn't have suggested the next day if it wasn't feasible. "Tomorrow," she agrees, and kisses their cheek, staying close so they might soak up more warmth. "You spoil me."

Halsin chuckled. " Perhaps. But my endeavors are...usually not ones sung of by the bards in taverns. "

As far as he knew, at least. Perhaps an honorable mention in some ballad about Ketheric's fall, but otherwise, he could not think of anything particularly notable in his own adventurers that could catch the attention of anyone outside of perhaps some druids.

" Mm, that's fair. "

Elbow poised on her thigh, she leaned forward, resting her cheek in her hand. The firelight flickered in her golden eyes, the flames burning bright between the pair of them. In contrast, all Nabooru could think about was going home once they found a cure and lifted the curse. She would not leave until they achieved the latter; even if they found a cure first, she planned to stay and aid him in the endeavor. Not only did it sound like the right thing to do, but she also felt she owed Halsin that.

Though, that was likely the homesickness talking. Something she felt guilty for not feeling as strongly as she maybe should have.

" If I were to make a suggestion, a vacation might be in order considering all you've endured even just in the past few days. " Advice she would give, but never willingly take. But he didn't need to know that. " Maybe you could visit Hyrule if you wanted a change of scenery. "

"A vacation," he echoed, and laughed lightly. "That's not the first time someone's said that to me, and it probably won't be the last." Now that it was on his mind, Halsin was thinking about what would be needed after the curse was lifted. Once he was sure of Thaniel's safety, he would do what he could to help her find a way back. With the Oak Father's blessings, they would find it before she lost hope.

         THE   TWO   OF   THEM      sit  beside  the  fire  together,  Puck  on  Wyll's  right.  He  is,  as  usual,  absorbed  in  his  own  mind.  His  fingers  trace  the  lines  of  bone  that  protrude  from  his  knuckles  to  his  wrist.  Then  they  glide  back  to  pinch  at  his  palms.  Sharp  nails  dig  into  the  flesh,  half-moons  deep  enough  to  linger  on  anyone  else  fading  as  quickly  as  they  come.

        ❝      My  hands  seem  soft  like  clay.      ❞

He  holds  out  his  hands  for  Wyll  to  see.  They  are  just  as  he  says  --  soft,  entirely  unblemished.      ❝      Is  that  not  strange   ?      ❞

𝐒𝐂  ♡  @flcralist

Cold, dead hands lay on her as gently as possible and harsh, piercing eyes sparkle with affection. They lean towards Wyll to press a cheek against hers, a leech to all that warmth. A feather-light kiss apologizes for all of that and they settle on her shoulder her when she speaks again.

Their free hand brushes aside the loc in her face not entirely unlike a cat. They've felt beyond privileged to watch Wyll come into herself since they first met her. She glows brighter and brighter each day and Iago would willingly go blind so as to not miss any of it.

"It could be nice," Iago hums noncommittally. "If it isn't, we'll shop elsewhere. Simple as that."

It was easier now, though, to be a little selfish. To consider what she'd truly want, rather than what would be the best for everyone. And besides, Iago did seem excited in their own subdued way of seeing Wyll twirl in a dress. She chuckled. "Far be it from me to resist the siren song of a little twirl."

"Yes, well, you won't hear another laugh out of him again. Not at your expense, that is." They suppose he's allowed a bit of joy every now and then, if he insists.

She smiles against Iago's scarred knuckles and their heart does that stutter-stop rabbit kick it always does with her. "You're the one who decided to marry such a knave. My wickedness has to be good for something."

Her ever earnest words always fill Iago's stomach with butterflies, oddly moreso each passing day rather than growing used to it. That sweetness does not come as easily to them, but their thumb brushes her cheek when she promises to be by their side, a wordless ditto.

But even mooning over her spouse doesn't keep her distracted for long, and Wyll's thoughts drift back to the topic at hand. Would she like that? Would it be better if things were kept private, or if they walked into a clothier's shop in the middle of town and damn whoever sees?

When she let go of his hand, she leaned against her staff a bit, trying to give some relief to her aching knees and feet. She began to ask a question when she was hit with that horrible feeling of nausea, the feeling of the tadpole squirming in her skull, the sensation of someone rooting around in her thoughts.

" ...Is this some roundabout way of calling me ancient, Wyll? "

The druid's smile betrayed his jest, the absence of any true insult as he suspected none was truly intended. The following chuckle cemented his good humor.