The taste of strawberries, sickly sweet. Jespar was looking at her with dawning horror.

“Your master was a member of the Creator’s Cult?”

“No. He was a high priest.”

The train lurched around them, as though it, too, was shocked.

“Fuck.”

---

She was frozen stiff, fear and terror and anger and love - godsdamned love - coursing through her veins and paralyzing her. Why was she like this? Disgust welled in her throat as Arantheal took her into his arms and she could do nothing, because she didn’t want to, because she wanted to be held - even by him, even considering what he wanted to do to her. 

There was that fear again. Fear that she would never be free, because what had been done to her had shaped her so completely, so permanently. For all those years he’d stitched together love and hate and fear and comfort and pleasure and pain and she would never be able to untangle that mess. Never. 

---

And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last I may without fail Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.

As night hath stars, more rare than ships In ocean, faint from pole to pole, So all the wonder of her lips Hints her innavigable soul.

Such lights she gives as guide my barque; But I am swallowed in the swell Of her heart's ocean, sagely dark, That holds my heaven and holds my hell.

All that I owe the fellows of the grave And all the dead bequeathed from pale estates Lies in the fortuned bone, the flask of blood, Like senna stirs along the ravaged roots. O all I owe is all the flesh inherits, My fathers' loves that pull upon my nerves, My sisters tears that sing upon my head My brothers' blood that salts my open wounds

“We’re friends,” he grumbled. “That’s how it should be, and how it will remain.”

Why do you lie, even now? It’s only us. Who is there for you to fool?

“I’m not lying. It doesn’t matter how I feel. There’s too much at stake - the Cleansing, everything. Even once it’s all over, if we survive… I’m old, and bitter, and cowardly. She deserves better than me.”

But she wants you. 

He laughed, bitterly.

“Don’t worry. It’s only a matter of time before she smartens up.”

Jespar had the feeling he was being scrutinized, examined. He imagined this ancient, immortal being rifling through the series of fuck-ups and selfish mistakes that was his life, weighing and measuring him. He thought of his father. He wondered if he would ever stop feeling this way, not good enough for this world.

If you truly believe that, the temple rumbled, and then paused. A section of the floor ahead of him collapsed, falling down into a deep black chasm, so deep he could not see or hear the stones land. Then jump.

Jespar stood at the edge, looking down. He felt like a reed in the wind, swaying slightly. The blackness rippled like water, and he could see his own reflection. Staring blankly, impassively. 

"So tell me, how do you feel about all of this? Being one of Them, being old Arantheal's favorite, being the magic key to stopping the end of the world?" "I'm not sure I've had time to feel anything about it yet. It's... it's all happening so fast." "Well, nothing is happening right this very moment." Yeah. He was right. Eris felt like the world was standing still. She was a little high, a little buzzed. It was a pleasantly chilly evening, the scent of woodfire smoke carried on the wind from the ground below. It was just her and Jespar. "Alright. I'm gonna feel my feelings. Give me that pipe." She took another drag, and when she exhaled she shouted, smoke billowing out of her like she was a dragon breathing fire. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! THIS IS SO FUCKING WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIRD!"

A guard milling around at the base of the tower shouted back. "Shut up!" Eris clapped a hand over her mouth, and Jespar was doubled over with laughter. "Wait, wait," he wheezed. "I wanna try." He motioned for the pipe. "JESPAR DAL'VAREK IS THE MOST SKILLED AND GENEROUS LOVER IN ALL OF VYNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!" "Don't make me come up there!"

The two of them were breathless, red-cheeked, tears in their eyes from laughing so hard.  "Do you feel better?" Jespar asked. "Yeah. I do. Um... what you said," she looked down, fidgeting with the cuff of her shirt. "Is that true?" "What, about being a skilled and generous lover?"   She nodded and Jespar leaned forward on his elbows. "Well, well, well. Wouldn't you like to know?"

then :) he shot her down :) because he's silly ...

but they still stayed up talking all night <3 <3

this is a celebratory post because i FINALLY,,, finally, after DAYS of work, got Tharael looking the way i want him to ;0; i made him so pretty guys.......... wow............ this is my version of Tharael after Rhalata where he travels with the Prophet and helps them out. he's still wearing the Voice outfit bc i havent found one i like better for him. and he doesnt have his tattoo bc i was playing with a mod that removed it for the longest time and i forgot about it and i cant be assed to put it back after all the trouble his makeover gave me lawl. he went to the magical tattoo removal wizard okay. i love this set of screenshots because they coincide so perfectly with this lil excerpt from my WIP ~