exile, villify.

'that's . . . that's horrible,' keyleth winced, words hitting her like a cold draft. it was one thing to encounter people who did terrible things out of desperation or fear, but amma's easy admission made her stomach turn in a way that had nothing to do with the storm they now tried to shelter from. she pulled her knees tight against her chest. 'how can you just . . . say that? being good isn't about what pays you,' eyes lift to watch rain drip off the dark fabric of amma's hood, and a guilty flash of heat flushed keyleth's cheeks. it occurred to her that she probably could weave a canopy of thick leaves over the cart's frame to keep them both dry. but her hands stayed firmly wrapped around her needs. she didn't want amma to suffer, not really, but every time keyleth tried to offer kindness, it felt like amma just used it as another target to shoot at.

besides, her magic felt tangled up inside her, tight and heavy with frustration, so who knows what would come out?

"you can do all the good you like, kid," she hack-chuckles. (hocks and spits into the mud outside their shitty shelter.) "you're gonna be just great at that, i'm sure."

this conversation has officially entered the realm of something she refuses to do sober. she fishes a flask out of her pack, unscrews the cap, and doesn't offer to the druid. if it was full it still wouldn't be enough.

[ win ]  –  for the sender’s muse to place a hand on the receiver’s neck and rest their forehead against the receiver’s own for a close congrats or excitement at something. [ brush ]  –  for the sender’s muse to give the receiver’s muse a passing touch along the shoulder’s / back as they walk by. [ hold ]  –  for the sender’s muse to hold the receiver’s muse by the face / neck gently and brush their thumbs along their cheeks to get them to focus on them. [ passing confidence ]  –  for the sender’s muse brush their finger’s against the receiver’s muse’s hand, too scared to hold their hand. [ intertwine ]  –  for the sender’s muse to intertwine their finger’s the receiver’s muse and kiss the back of their hand. [ intertwine & kiss ]  –  for the sender’s muse to intertwine their finger’s the receiver’s muse and kiss the back of their hand. [ intertwine & hold ]  –  for the sender’s muse to intertwine their finger’s the receiver’s muse and hold them during an emotional moment to reassure them. [ wrap ]  –  for the sender’s muse to casually wrap their arms around the receiver’s neck and lean on their shoulder from behind. [ palm kiss ]  –  for the sender’s muse to kiss the palm of receiver’s hand. [ hand kiss ]  –  for the sender’s muse to kiss the back of the receiver’s hand. [ lay ]  –  for the sender’s muse to lay next to the receiver and lay their hand in the receiver muses’ hand. [ reassure ]  –  for the sender’s muse to place their hand over the receiver’s in a moment of stress and squeeze reassuringly. [ squeeze ]  –  for the sender’s muse to place their hands on the receiver’s shoulders from behind, and offer a reassuring / affirming squeeze before moving on. [ pluck ]  –  for the sender to pluck a foreign object ( twig / leaf / etc. ) out of the receiver muses’ hair. [ play ]  –  for the sender’s muse to run their hand up the receiver’s shoulder and play with the hair at the base of their neck as a means of comfort. [ rub ]  –  for the sender muse to rub up and down the receiver’s back / shoulder as a means of comfort. [ shoulder ]  –  for the sender’s muse to place a hand on the receiver’s shoulder to comfort them, or stop them. [ hug ]  –  for the sender’s muse to drag the receiver’s muse into a tight hug by the back of the neck, and play with their hair at the base of their neck in order to comfort them. [ shock ]  –  for the sender to recoil a bit in shock at how quick the receiver latches onto them in a moment of high emotion, before returning the affections. [ cup ]  –  for the sender’s muse to cup the receiver’s face, and brush their thumb along the receiver’s cheek. [ hair ]  –  for the sender to brush a strand of hair out of the receiver’s face. [ hair & lean ]  –  for the sender to brush a strand of hair out of the face, and lean in slowly for a kiss. [ cup & kiss ]  –  for the sender’s muse to cup the receiver muses’ face during an incredibly passionate and long overdue kiss. [ what a rush ]  –  for the long long overdue kiss to end, only for the sender to rest their head on the receiver’s, and comment “do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” [ no tears ]  –  for the sender to cup the receiver’s face and brush away their tears with their thumbs. [ no tears & kiss ]  –  for the sender to cup the receiver’s face and brush away their tears with their thumbs & kiss the receiver’s forehead. [ stumble ]  –  for the sender’s muse to catch and help the receiver’s muse keep balance. [ shudder ]  –  for the sender to shudder a little at some gentle touch from the receiver. [ nononono! ]  –  for the sender to hold the receiver’s head / face while they’re injured, brush their thumb along their cheeks & refuse to accept that the receiver is dying. [ acceptance ]  –  for the sender & receiver to sit / lay somewhere in acceptance of their ends together. in a final act of closeness, the sender places their hand in the receiver’s own.

( ⋆۶ৎ ̊ ) CHORUS: Woman, your heart is brave. You can endure much. ( ⋆۶ৎ ̊ ) GOSSAMER: None but the unhappy people ever hear such praise, do they?

❝ I once heard of a lady fair, with petal-pink skin and the moon in her hair, and should you want for her company, you'd empty your pockets to pay for her fee! The grace of her dancing is sweeter than sin, her gaze known to topple the strongest of men, her voice when she sings is as clear as a gem, and once you have known her, you'll seek her again. ❞

“Araumycos is well north of us.”  Her head turns to pretend to address Astarion, who obviously hasn’t the faintest idea what Araumycos is.  She is not convinced he knows what a myconid is, either.  “Myconids are pacifistic.  If we do them no harm, we may find hospitality and a safe place to rest.”

She finds it of inconsequential note that the creatures tend to regard concepts such as privacy and solitude as faintly tragic afflictions.  If they choose to spend the evening rummaging politely through everyone's thoughts, so be it—better that than purple worm food.

“Shelter is difficult to come by down here, as Amma well knows.”  Gossamer’s eyes slide back to Amma; the faerzress-soaked glow in her irises catches against the drifting violet spores and sets the cloud ablaze in smoky shades of rose.  “We should take advantage of opportunities to rest safely.”

"and if they don't like our little passengers? what then?"

she doubts that that would really be an issue. she just wants to be annoying. astarion isn't doing that, so, suppose it falls to amma.

"i say we press on and find the godsdamned cultists that we know are creeping 'round down here. rather test our luck with them. might have a trader," she adds, something close to wistfulness edging into her tone at the thought of gold, "at the very least, some beds..."

amma gives him a quizzical, skeptical look, but it is a glancing blow at best. he's right, of course-- he very often is-- and amma knows better than to lie about important things to the major's face, at least.

" you'd really go through with it ? robbing someone like that ? there's better targets out there, for sure. " in fact, he'd rather raid a bandit camp. at least they've got reason for him to play executioner and get paid. by the means in their camp, and maybe the thane, or captain of the guard.

" mm, think i oughta stop .. long day ahead and we'll likely only get a few hours as it is. " in truth, he's suddenly not feeling so merry. but, he can't tell if it's her fault he's like this, or his own. for thinking too hard, but certainly not over feeling bad. oh, he'd never admit to something so fragile as having a guilty conscience.

amma's nose scrunches at his response, like this is just a silly drinking game. therein lies the difference, she supposes: zoren would rather raid a bandit camp for loot... and amma'd rather be a bandit.

still, it beats a prison cell, or working off her bounty in the mines. and it sure as shit beats being dead.

"little sleep'll only make it worse," she muses drunkenly. doesn't really care if he's still listening or not. she downs another swig of the sujamma, and internally, concedes the point. "what days aren't long, anyway? ... make you want to stay in bed, and keep on sleeping..."

amma never liked the stars. always felt like eyes, to her. the chorus of aetherius waiting to judge her. she does not voice this opinion to her captain. more than it being folly to sway a sailor from his stars, she just-- she doesn't want to get into all that. not right now. and not with zoren.