Go, and never darken my towels again..

She opened her mouth, but no words found their way out.

"I would have helped you." The admission arrived almost as a whisper, and it was somehow the most devastating thing he had said. So far.

"That is the truly pathetic part of this, if you wish to know it. If you had come to me—at any point, in any state, with any portion of the truth—I would have helped you. If you had confessed every secret, every scheme, every catastrophic decision, I would have stayed." A humourless smile touched his mouth. "You know I would have. We both know it."

The smile vanished.

"But you never gave me that chance. Instead, you built an entire architecture of omission around me and let me inhabit it believing it was our life." His gaze drifted to the fire. "Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? To discover I was the last to know?"

His voice cracked almost imperceptibly.

"I loved being your husband." The words were painful to hear. "I was proud of it. And now I find myself wondering whether I was ever truly your husband at all, or merely a role you permitted me to play while the real Celeste existed somewhere I was never allowed to follow."

He lifted his glass and took a slow, deliberate sip.

When she could not immediately answer, he continued, quieter now, and somehow worse for it.

"I trusted you with thoughts I have shared with no living soul. Not Mystra. Not Elminster. Not my mother. Not even Tara. There are parts of me you know better than I know myself." A bitter smile. "And yet, apparently, you never trusted me enough to extend the same courtesy."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Do you understand how impossible that is to reconcile? To be loved so deeply and trusted so little? To be someone's confidant, but not their partner?"

His jaw worked ever so slightly. Celeste gulped heavily.

"You robbed me of every informed decision I might have made. Every conversation we might have had. Every opportunity to stand beside you willingly instead of being led behind you unknowingly. And that," he pressed, "is not love. It is administration."

A long pause.

"When you kissed me, were you sharing yourself, or merely preserving a secret? When you told me you loved me, was it because you wished me to know it, or because you needed me to believe it?"

For the first time, softness moved through his expression and Celeste made the choice to remain quiet. At least for now, though the words burned her tongue.

"The scope of your dealings, your movements, your elaborate schemes—they are apparently common knowledge. Documented. Discussed. Undeniably understood by every corner of this city. And only I remained blissfully unaware."

His laugh was brief and brittle; it held no humour.

"And I doubt I am the only casualty of that ignorance. From the looks of it, Celeste, I am the one who shares your bed... but am I?" He paused to let the question hang in the smoke-filled air. "You and Soren are very familiar to the point of intimacy. What of Halsin? How many times did you journey to Haven alone? Leaving me behind, so that you might slip into the druid's embrace instead?"

Celeste started to protest, unable to remain quiet, her voice fluttering. "This is unfair! You didn’t join me in Haven because you were consumed by the Academy and refused when I—"

"Was I? Or was it a beautifully constructed excuse for you to cease inviting me back? To finally keep my attention from your other affections?" he sneered.

"That is the true damage, Celeste. Not jealousy. Not fury. Not even the humiliation of being the last to know." He swallowed. "Being not trusted. You have made me doubt my own memories. And I do not know if there is a crueler thing one person can do to another they claim to love."

Celeste sat very still in her chair.

She had faced gods. She had faced Bhaal himself. She had walked into rooms knowing full well she might not walk out of them, and had done so without flinching because fear, for most of her life, had been something she knew how to wear quietly and use strategically.

She did not know what to do with this.

With Gale.

With the specific, surgical devastation of being known so well by someone that he could take her apart without raising his voice.

But anger was rising in her now. Not yet the shaking, consuming kind, but close enough that Celeste closed her eyes and took a long, deliberate breath before it could get there.

"Alright," she sighed, cleaning her feet with a cantrip and pulling them up onto the chair beneath her. "May I have something else to drink, please?"

Gale blinked. Surprised—and immediately suspicious, because suspicion followed surprise in him the way footnotes followed assertions. "I beg your pardon?"

"We will clearly be here all night, and you—whether from anger or because you got lost inside your own thoughts, which amounts to the same thing—served me whiskey. I hate whiskey, Gale. I have always hated whiskey."

His jaw tightened, but he rose. "Rum, then."

"Whatever is not whiskey." She waited while he moved, then added, "Ask your questions. I will answer all of them. Or would you prefer to reconvene in the morning? I can sleep in my study."

His eyebrow rose with considerable eloquence.

"You do not enjoy difficult conversations when you are angry," she said, not unkindly, "and you are very angry. I am simply offering you option."

"No," Gale answered slowly, weighing the word as he weighed most things: with more deliberation than strictly necessary. "I want answers tonight."

⟡ OTHER

Important Context — While she is a dark urge, the circumstances around her creation differ from BG3 canon. Her soul was not the original owner of her body. She had been abducted from the fugue plane + fused with a fraction of Bhaal’s divine flesh. Then implanted into a still-born. It’s dark. Bhaal didn't have the power for creation, in my head, only theft. 😌

Birthplace: Menzoberranzan, Underdark. Family: Her immediate family were a lesser merchant house, debt-bound to the noble house of Xorlarrin. They perished by her hand, at the age of 7-8, when the urge briefly awakened. Though she still has some existing relatives, Xorlarrin claimed her as payment, suspecting supernatural origins to her strength. From that point, there were few relationships outside of rivals and brief bedmates. She bears her only child, Rueben, between the affairs in Menzoberranzan and Baldur’s Gate, prior to entering the Temple of Bhaal. By this point, Sceleritas Fel had located her, urging her to dispose of the boy. She couldn't bring herself to kill him, passing him off somewhere, anywhere far from her. Their relationship is estranged. (But I have several ideas on how they meet again.) By end-game she is partnered with Gale Dekarios, the infamous wizard of Waterdeep, after a long-standing push & pull dynamic.

Job: Originally trained as a Paladin w/ Oath of Conquest. Her duty was to embark on small surface raids as the physical muscle, though the importance of these raids were far from trivial — Xorlarrin had its eyes on Gauntlgrym and coveted any power they could secure. While her contributions were minimal, she was often in close proximity to magical artefacts. She had a penchant for trying to earn the upper hand, sometimes withholding information gathered to use for her own benefit. Her station wasn’t high in rank, but her insubordination drew undesirable attention and retaliation. I won't spoil here, but she leaves Menzo & not just because of the urge. → She maintains her oath even after entering the Temple of Bhaal. Despite her heritage, most members refuse to acknowledge her authority until she proves her worth. 20 years later she is Head Primistress → After usurpation by Orin, Lynette breaks her oath. She has the choice between remaining an Oathbreaker, up taking a new oath, or something new entirely: bladesinging!

Phobias/Fears: Loss of Control (ongoing), Confinement (ongoing), and an aversion to magic — especially necromantic (pre + in-game). Between the horror of the urge, the deep chambers of Xorlarrin, and Kressa Bonedaughter, it’s a lot. An extension of these is a fear of vulnerability. Weakness, above all, is terrifying. Especially now that she has so much to lose, a life that is truly her own & loved ones to share it with.

Hobbies: Studying. It’s one way she can put her discipline to good use and still suffer for it. Same strategy, different subject. Her favourite topics are the arcane, philosophy, and metallurgy. She would potentially try her hand at bladesmithing — only as a hobby, of course.

⟡ MORALS

Alignment: Neutral Evil (Self-Preserving) → True Neutral (Healed) Flaws: Pushes everyone away. HAS to stress-test close relationships constantly, her trust is slow/hard to build. Her whole world view is incredibly flawed, up until certain events begin to open up her perspective. She is also a fight first/talk later type of gal, requiring time before she can forgive or reconcile.

Virtues: Honesty, though not out of nobility. She doesn’t lie about who or what she is, leaving others to draw their own conclusions. As long as they don’t look too close. (She tends to lie by omission in any case). Curiosity. Despite her guarded nature, Lynette is incredibly interested in the lives of others; why they are the way that they are. It runs in opposition with her distant disposition. Lastly, Discipline + Pragmatism which go hand-in-hand. Between combating the violent impulses, navigating relationships, and resolving an apocalypse she started, discipline is what keeps her from becoming the person she fears she truly is. She has never stopped being dangerous, only learned to interrogate her impulses before acting upon them.

⟡ THIS or THAT

Introvert/Ambivert/Extrovert ✦ Organized/Disorganized ✦ Closed-minded/Open-minded (depends on lens) ✦ Calm/Anxious/ Restless ✦ Disagreeable/In-Between/Agreeable ✦ Patient/In-Between/Impatient ✦ Outspoken/In-Between/Reserved ✦ Leader/Follower/Flexible ✦ Empathetic/In-Between/Apathetic ✦ Optimist/Realist/Pessimist ✦ Traditional/In-between/Modern ✦ Hard-working/In-Between/Lazy