#alittlebitofmuse

alittlebitofmuse -- a multi-muse rp blog ☪︎ Currently featuring: Astarion from BG3, Halsin from BG3 ☪︎☪︎ Written by Kelley, 30, she/her ☪︎☪︎☪︎ 21+ only please!

"Halsin!" Eve called out excitedly, moving toward him with dirt and a blooming bluebell in her hand. He was an archdruid and he was probably nowhere near as excited as she was, but who else could she bring such things to? "Even amongst all the dead foliage, I got this one to grow."

Now...where to put it?

as a child she had walked these streets with pleading eyes and open palms, begging coin and food from scornful faces and turned backs. shade still clearly recalled the day she had watched a man slip through the crowd with nimble fingers, pulling trinkets from pockets and coin purses from belts. wide eyed she had watched his progress in silence, awed. and so she had studied him, and others like him, until the aching in her stomach encouraged her to follow in the footsteps of her teachers. it had taken time and practice, but eventually she too could stalk the crowds of citizens with nimble fingers and quick feet, disappearing before anyone took notice. and that was how she managed to survive, until she was old enough to work and then, eventually, leave the city for the shadowlands.

returning now to baldurs gate, the instincts she had thought she'd outgrown in her time away awoke within her. her fingers suddenly itched and feet ached for the meditative rhythm of her old pickpocketing rituals. the words uttered had been mostly to herself, a quiet encouragement, but when the vampire responds she is shaken from her own reverie, and shocked to find a kindred spirit. returning his grin, she watches him disappear into the crowd, then steels herself for her own efforts. easing herself through the motions, the tiefling finds it almost easier than she had remembered. to think, this had once been the only thing she knew.

Officially the leader of the Last Light Inn was Jaheira. It was the leader of the harpers who oversaw visitors and taking the precautions she needed to take. Not many could be trusted enough to be introduced to Isobel, whom protected the village from being corrupted by the shadowcurse. This was because any single person could be serving the absolute. A soldier sent to the Last Light to infiltrate on Ketheric's command with the sole purpose of capturing Isobel. They had nearly succeeded with Marcus.

However, that didn't mean that Isobel herself was not aware of those coming and going. In fact, she was well informed from her perch on the upper floor of the inn. Even from afar she knew if she could trust the adventuring party that had made their way into their refuge. Trusted them long before they helped protect her against the latest kidnapped attempt. However, it was a certain member amongst them, one that strayed from the group that caught her eye. A familiar, friendly face.

Isobel made her slow descent down the stairs and into the room Halsin made himself comfortable in. Her heart pounded with a sense of worry, as if something bad had happened and yet she was all too happy to see her friend. One she hadn't seen in over one hundred years. She was relieved to see him alive. "Halsin? Is that you old friend?" Isobel asked with a faint smile as she approached him, though being careful to keep her distance with the strain she felt. "Glad to see you're still alive after all of these years."

However, she saw the look on his face, as if he was seeing a ghost. "What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" Panic began to creep in long before he spoke words. Something was wrong, something she didn't know about. Somehow she was at the center of it.... @alittlebitofmuse

While Eve has never been the type to ask for help easily, she definitely wasn't one to deny herself help when it was needed. Right now, she had exhausted the life at three lock picks, and it was about time she asked for help. Getting into this chest was going to mean going to the expert instead of trying to show off.

May the Gods spare her Astarion's attitude about it.

The glance Anne casts at Astarion is pinched. It’s hard to say whether she’s disgusted, disappointed, or disgruntled—though knowing her, it’s all three.

“It sounds like a pain in the fucking arse,” she replies, but she’s all the more the hypocrite for it, spoiling for a good fight as often as she is. But goblins are a pain in the ass generally, so it’s not a lie at least. Besides which, “Aren’t ye fuckin bored a’ goblins yet?” Gods know she is. In her scant few days ashore all she’s managed to do is get embroiled in a conflict with alien god-beings and stamp out a few dozen goblins.

Anne had hoped life ashore might offer greater variety to her day-to-day life, but so far even the dullest day at sea was proving less monotonous. Mind flayers and goblins, goblins and mind flayers—where lives the diverse life so many sailors claim to find in Faerûn?

This is so sweet of you and I am so sorry I didn't answer it sooner. <3 I adore you and I hope that you know that!

no u ! >:u but seriously thank you <3