#aquiversfull

- Inspired by this Inbox Meme {{Trigger Warning: Depressive Thought}}

Her form went ridged at the declaration, regardless of how softly her elven companion had uttered it. Fingers instinctively gripped about her mug, dark irises watching the now tepid tea ripple.

Bare feet padded across creaking floorboards as Kymiel shifted from his place by the table, coming to sit upon the paved steps opposite the mage. She could see his sun-kissed toes out of her peripheral, counting each one as her breathing hitched.

Dhana wanted to bite, to snap at his response. Alas, as the blackette deliberated, the bitter taste of sense ran through Kymiel’s statement.

‘Running from Deekin, avoiding any direct contact with Eli, Xanos and the others…I’m really just hiding, aren’t I? Fuck.’

A calloused hand released battered porcelain, rising to thread wearily through her black mane. Sepia eyes slid closed at the treacherous burn brimming there. Leaning forward, Dhana’s voice was unmistakably hoarse as she spoke.

“I’m…terrified of touching those scars. At what might-…at what most likely will happen,” her head bowed, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “I’ve held everything I have left together by mere threads, and if one where to snap I…I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

There was a long, heavy silence, intermitted only by the soft patter of rain drops upon the window pane. Brows clenched hard, face screwed up in an attempt to dismiss her grief. But Lady Luck was scorning her as hot, watery trails streaked down her cheeks.

“You are in survival mode and have been since we met in Waterdeep. You are slowly suffocating yourself.”

Blearily she looked up to find the ranger regarding her intently. He spoke factually, pity and patronising tones nowhere in sight. That didn’t stop Dhana retaining her scowl.

“And what would you suggest, master elf? Charge back to all those I’ve wronged and throw myself at their feet?”

To his credit, Kymiel didn’t even flinch.

Instead, the wood elf leant in, mirroring her pose; arms bent, torso tilted forward as he regarded her.

“Life is for living, not just existing,” Ochre eyes pinned her, “allow yourself to coast along, grasping at straws will only bring you more of the same.”

“Don’t settle for the bare minimum. If you yearn for change, then be the force of your own change."

Dhana visibly sagged, the darkened circle about her eyes far more pronounced in that moment.

“You don’t understand, elf. The amount of change I need is…. insurmountable!” he was lucky she hadn’t thrown the mug in her grasp. There was a deep, wallowing pit of despair growing in her stomach. Everything, all at once, being made aware to her…all her insecurities and faults…

Dry, tanned hands found her own, gently tugging the one in her hair free. Kymiel had moved silently, kneeling before her now. At this proximity she could see age etched into the crows’ feet about his eyes, the crease lines about his lips from sunny smiles. A second of bitter envy.

“Not all at once, Dhana, that would be cruel and unrealistic,” the mage fought the urge to strike him, claw out those bright eyes. Get away, don’t look at me, fuck you- but she forced herself to remained still, “One day, one step or even one action at a time. It matters not how big or small, or other’s perception of its importance, so long as whatever you focus on matters to you.”

The reaction had always been the same whenever the thought of change had arisen. One self-depreciating train of thought domino-ed into a downward spiral. Each belittling voice inside her skull swiping at her until she lay foetal in her covers, unable to will herself to emerge for even daily necessities.

Hence the intervention of her current travelling companion.

Part of her wanted to resent his interference, ward him off with snark and barbed words. But the ranger had seen the crux of her darkness…and remained, stubbornly, at her side. It reminded her painfully of her academic family, the kobold…

So when Kymiel carefully sat beside her, the warmth of a familiar quilt thrown about her shoulders, the mage could do little bar openly weep.

A follow on from this drabble. Bonding time between our lovely mage and Kymiel. WATERDEEP, HORDES OF THE UNDERDARK, CHAPTER 1-2: CANON!VERSE

“Tyr’s flaming arse, watch it will you!”

Kymiel paused, alcohol-soaked cloth in hand, eyeing her with an air of expectancy. The mage scowled at him as the moment grew awkward.

“What?!”

“I warned you this would be painful. Cursing won’t make this any easier,” he caught hold of her chin with gentle fingers, holding it firmly in place, “Nor will wriggling.”

“But its bloody painfu-eurgh!” White hot pain laced the side of her head, but under the elf’s calm gaze she could do little but hiss.

He held the cloth there until the agony subsided into an intense throb. Without waiting for permission, Kymiel clasped her hand and placed it over the material.

“Keep on that pressure, I am going to fetch a few healing potions.”

And with that the brunette rose to his feet, padding across floorboards to hunt through a leather rucksack. Dhana took the opportunity to let out a quiet string of curses, uncaring if sensitive elven ears picked them up or not. Lifting a knee, she lent her elbow upon it, glancing about the dimly lit hovel she had been ushered into.

A decrepit looking room with shredded wallpaper, missing floorboards and a gigantic hole in the wall through which they had entered. The area in which she sat was thankfully dry, and fairly sheltered, but Kymiel had given her a linen blanket just in case.

“I think you will need this more than me.” Dhana sorely missed her pack, her quilt especially. Dark eyes lowered to her filthy leggings. She would have to go back and get it, along with her staff. Cold dread settled into her gut at the thought.

‘That means facing Durnan and all those foolish enough to follow him.’

Kymiel’s return pulled her from anxiety inducing thoughts, the sound of corks being pulled filling her ears. Fluorescent liquid sloshed around in the flask and she knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Drink this, please.” She gave him a short word of thanks before lifting the substance to her lips. Briny scents invaded her nostrils, Dhana wishing nothing more than to peg her damn sinuses. Gulping the mage knocked back the concoction, fighting back the inevitable gag that threatened. She pushed the empty glass into the elf’s awaiting hand, before another was offered.

“Seriously?” it was the first time he had shown any sign of exasperation.

“Yes. Now, drink.”

The process was as vulgar as the first time, with a bitter after taste. A very flowery profanity slipped loose as she shoved the empty vial away.

“You need to find a better supplier, that stuff tasted awful!” Kymiel sighed before depositing the vials safely back into his pack. He made no comment, regardless of how whingey the human sounded. Returning, he lowered himself to sit cross-legged before her.

“How does it feel now?” Ochre eyes looked pointedly at the cloth. Taking this as a cue, Dhana gingerly released her grip, carefully peeling the material off. Squelchy with clotted blood, the mage dumped it at her feet in disgust. Her companion tilted his head in inspection.

“Well, your ear is still attached.”

She deadpanned.

“Annnd?!”

Kymiel’s ears twitched, almost cat like in their movement.

“You will have a very impressive scar,” Dhana blinked at him, instinctively raising a hand. When he made no move to stop her, the mage finally felt out the damage. Indeed, a jagged triangular piece of cartilage was missing. No amount of healing nor potions was going to bring that back.

“And I now look like a ragged alley cat,” she allowed herself the moment of vanity, toying with her mane to cover the raw skin. Unbeknown to her, the elf bit his lip in amusement.

“Was that not the look you were going for anyhow?”

Dhana’s neck creaked with the speed with which she turned. Now Kymiel couldn’t hide his hilarity, quietly snickering behind his hand. She huffed.

“Alright, wise-ass, that was good,” something dawned on her, ushering away her sulkiness, “And thanks, by the way, you saved my hide back there.”

Leaning back on his hands the brunette stared up at the ceiling, idly following the beams with his eyes.

“As I would have done for anyone in a tight space. Your assailants were not interested in taking prisoners,” a thoughtful look crossed his tanned features, “Which makes me curious, why were those Drow so keen to kill you?”

This was not a line of questioning she was willing to entertain right now.

Kymiel took this to mean something else.

“Unless...their hunt was justified?” Something dark flickered across his expression, something she had not expected out of this seemingly law-abiding individual.

She snorted.

“If burning one of their assassin’s alive warrants a witch hunt, then yes, I am guilty of all charges.”

“That does not ans-…” She gave him a very pointed stare.

“It’s the only answer you are getting.”

A moment of silence and the elf conceded, returning his gaze to the ceiling. They remained that way for some time, listening to the wind howl through Waterdeep’s streets. Alas, it seemed the elf was unable to help himself.

“Where are your possessions?” A sigh escaped her, but he pushed on, “It is unlikely you travel so light. Did they take them from you?”

Folding her arms across her chest, Dhana shook her head, flinching at the ache that followed.

“No. I…forgot to take them.”

Both parties stared at each other. A stalemate of wits. She wasn’t shifting on this, nor, it seemed was he.

“Well, you can’t exactly leave my care without them, can you?”

“You’re an awfully presumptuous git, aren’t you?” The elf had the audacity to shrug and smile amicably at her.

“Where did you have them last?”

He had her there, and no amount of scowling was going to change that. Sure, she could zap the shit out of him, but then where would she be?

With a heavy sigh, the mage relented.

“Yawning portal, I was staying there when the assassin appeared.” She neglected to mention the Undermountain, hordes of Drow and the fact she was an enormous fucking coward. But at least he got the message. All of Waterdeep knew what was taking place beneath the Durnan’s inn, and Kymiel was no exception. He put two and two together and got five. Dhana let him roll with it.

“Then come morning that will be our next stop.”

{{Alright first off, apologies @waterdeephero​! This ask has sat in my inbox for literal years! I have been waiting for the perfect inspiration to strike for this particular part of Dhana’s story-line. It is one of my favourite parts, largely because it is where Dhana meets my lovely @aquiversfull​ Kymiel. So finally, here it is! Forgive the length, I got carried away with battle scenes again x’D}}

Waterdeep, Hordes of the Underdark, Chapter 1-2: Canon!Verse

Thwack!

Blood ran icily cold, what remained of the bolt splinteringin her periphery. The emerald sheen wasn’t lost on her. Poison. Heart thunderingagainst her ribcage, Dhana darted down another alleyway. Visibility was growingincreasingly poor as near vertical sheets of rain hammered a crescendo againstthe cobbles. Squinting revealed little of Waterdeep’s winding streets, thesorceress barely making out the looming outlines of buildings. Had she time torecast infravision, she would have, but her assailants where incessant.

Another volley whistled through the air, ripping through thetop of her ear. Dhana drew blood from clamping down on her lip, smoulderingpain erupting from the wound.

Fucking drow!

Ducking beneath washing lines that extended across her path,the woman used the sudden cover to her advantage. More complex incantationswere out of the equation, but evocation came as naturally as breathing.

Hands outstretched, fingertips dragging along brick, Dhanafocused on the pain. The way water seeped into the ragged flesh, the shreddedcartilage flapping lamely in her haste. Ice crackled to life, feeding off theweather and her adrenaline. It shot out like spiderwebs, spikes erupting frombrick at an alarming rate. A startled cry pulled out a cruel smirk.

One down. Gods know how many more to go.

Something flashed up ahead, the tell-tale sizzling of the arcane. Dark brows furrowed a moment too late, therealisation pooling horror in her gut.

Spider webs.

She felt the fibrous grip snag hold of her boots, rippingone from her foot. The momentum sent her sprawling unceremoniously in a sticky,sodden heap. Muscles and bones shrieked in protest, the skin upon her forearmsshredded to ribbons from the friction. Dhana coughed violently, head ringing asshe tried desperately to get to her feet.

‘Zexen'uma harl, rivvil.’ *

She froze, head jerking upwards at the commanding tone. Likeice it slithered over her skin, enticing a rash of goose bumps to follow. Desperateto see through the watery veil, she struggled to raise her hand. A shadow leaptoverhead, a burst of silvery light and a shattering of glass had her seeing stars.

Like a fly upon a spider’s web, she could feel their eyesupon her. Whom ever it was moved closer.

“Phu’ dos zhaunus ol zhah ilta?**” an uttered whisper, somehowaudible above the rain, called from above. Their leader – or so she surmised – stoodbefore her now. Without a light she could make out little features, but the lethalpair of short-swords spoke volumes.

‘Assassins. Like the one in the Yawning Portal.’ Shegrimaced as the figure crouched down at her level, the overwhelming scent ofchemicals upon their person. A hand captured her chin, wrenching it up at apainful angle. She was twisted this way and that, the drow inspecting her earwith a growl.

“Foolish male, have you no eyes!? This is your pathetichandiwork is it not?”

With a jerk, Dhana was released. Recoiling, she pressed herhands more firmly into the ground and forced herself up.  This time her captors allowed her to kneel,but the red hued blade at her exposed throat meant she did little else.

“If you are so intent on killing me, hurry it up. I’ve freezingmy tits off out here!”

It wasn’t a lie. Having fled the inn with next to nopossessions, desperate to avoid questioning glances, the mage wore naught buther leather and fur padded armour. Even her staff was gone.

Sliding up her gullet, the short-sword rested just under herchin. She could feel the trickle of blood forming from the nick.

“Dos phuul natha bran uss whol zhaunus***,” followed by avelvety chuckle, “I will enjoy disembowelling you like the dog you are.”

N-Now hang on, disembowelling?! No one mentioned-

Phwet.

Dhana flinched as something thick and viscous splatteredacross her face. As she sat there blinking furiously through whatever thiswas, she heard a distinctive sound.

The twang of a bowstring. And whoever it was had stirredup one hell of a hornet’s nest. Shrieking drow echoed upon the roof tops, thesounds of spells zipping through the air and breaking roof shingles. Dhana feltthe blade fall, shortly followed by a body. The sorceress wasted little time inscrubbing at her eyes. Finally her vision cleared, sepia eyes swivelling about.

There, sticking out of the hood of her fallen captor,was a blue and white tipped arrow. From this distance Dhana could tell it was aclear headshot, right through the eye socket. She whistled, impressed.

That was until a dagger sliced through the air before hernose.

‘Yes Dhana, battlefield, we are in a godforsaken battlefieldyou twat!!’

Snatching up the blade she set about cutting herself free,the webs falling away. Whomever had cast it must have met an untimely end, asthe silk vanished. Dhana stumbled to her feet, willing her magic to harden uponthe surface of her skin and armour. Pieces of rock fell away as it responded, notwithout sending a dizzying spell of vertigo her way.

I…I need to rest, badly.

Sadly it seemed Lady Tymora was ignoring her again today, asan irate roar sounded from behind her. Bewildered, Dhana instinctively rolledaway, just in time to miss the great sword that spliced the space she had onceoccupied. A hulking, silver haired beauty with a none to friendly exteriorgreeted her.

Balanced upon the balls of her feet, Dhana acted quickly. Willingwith all her strength, she coaxed the water about the drow’s feet to burst tolife. It wound up his legs tightening and crackling with incessant cold. Hehissed, barking some very uncouth words in his mother language, managing tolift his blade with increasing difficulty. Filthy, bloodied and utterly fed upherself, Dhana gave him a dark grin.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Zu'tour ol elg'care-eugh!!!” ****

You would have thought that he’d have figured it out. After all,the metre long icicles stained red with drow blood was a massive give away.Dhana didn’t give him the satisfaction of answer.

She outstretched both hands. One hand clenched with violentintent, the other flipped a universal sign that shall not be repeated here. Thegreat sword clattered loudly upon cobblestone, her mouthy friend now the centreof a grotesque, ice sculpture.

Slumping against the wall, Dhana leaned her head back againstthe brickwork. Rain bounced off her feverish skin, refreshing despite the throbbingear. Morbidly curious as to the damage Dhana lifted a tentative finger.

“I would strongly advise against doing that.”

An involuntary spasm shook her entire body, the sorceressyelping in surprise. Leathers creaked, drawing her attention to the suddenvoice.

How he had managed to appear at her side so silently was beyondher. Well, besides the rain and the previous battle of course.

An elf knelt mere feet away, ears dripping, face clarteredin a similar fashion to her own. A heavy emerald cloak adorned his shoulders,swept across studded leather armour, held in place by a brass broach. Hisoutline blurred ever so slightly at the edges, causing her nausea to worsen. Hesmiled despite their situation, dimples appearing in his bronzy complexion. Evidently,he held this expression often.

“Please do not be alarmed, I have no interest in hurtingyou.”

She gave him a sceptical look, “Y-You sure about that?”

Those unusual ochre eyes gleamed with unspoken humour.Instead of answering he pulled back his cloak to reveal…a quiver full of blueand white tipped arrows. Dhana gawked.

“Y-You’ve got one hell of an aim!” Her elven saviour finallychuckled at this, the timbre pleasant upon her frayed nerves.

“Luckily for you, yes. Although, you are quite anintimidating fighter yourself.”

He gestured warily to the glistening, impaled drow. Sheshould have thought twice about looking, as it seemed her stomach had reachedits limit. Lurching away from her newfound companion, Dhana emptied thecontents of her gut onto the cobblestone. She could barely breathe from theconvulsions, feeling the bile burn her nostrils as well as her throat.

Movement from behind alerted her to the nearing presence. Callousedfingers gently lifted her hair, gathering it at the base of her neck. Had shethe strength Dhana would have slapped him aside, alas she could not. Weak, emotionallyexhausted the mage could do little but retch until nothing remained.

Minutes passed, odd gags threatening here and there. Oncesatisfied, the elf retreated, squatting before her with a flask.

“Drink this, please.” She squinted through watery, bloodshoteyes. He sighed patiently, “It is not poison, look.”

He sipped the contents, swallowing to prove his point.Reluctantly the sorceress nodded, taking the leather-bound container, and downingas much as she could muster.

“I have neutralised the remainder of your attackers. I suggestwe move from this location now, as it is likely another party will follow intheir footsteps.”

Dhana almost choked. Coughing, she handed back his water skin.

“What is this we?” He blinked at her as if it wereobvious. She snorted, “I do not need babysitting, master elf.”

Securing the hip flask upon his belt, the elf stood up. Headjusted his bow and quiver, before glancing back down at her.

“I prefer Kymiel if you don’t mind. That nickname is…painfullyformal,” not waiting for her to respond he bent down and secured his armabout her waist. Eyes widened rapidly, the mage squawking indignantly. Helifted her with surprising strength and ease, positioning her arm behind his head.She stumbled a bit, coming to lean into his gait. Dhana glowered.

“And you are?”

“Pissed off.”

“Well, Miss Pissed Off, you are hardly in any fit state tocontinue unaided.”

She couldn’t exactly argue with that, given the way her headspun from overexertion. Growling, she let her head flop forward whilst she centredherself. A pang of guilt ran through her.

“It’s Dhana, my name that is.”

She could feel him perk up as he began leading them away.

“Pity, I rather liked your prior name.”

“Ugh…shut up!”

Tonight was going to be longest night she had endured inmany a year.-Drow Translations- Taken from here and here.

Part 1: , Part 2: WATERDEEP, HORDES OF THE UNDERDARK, CHAPTER 1-2: CANON!VERSE

Morning came far too quickly for her liking. She knew it was inevitable. The mage needed her belongings, and perhaps the elf would come in handy. Tugging her hood up, Dhana stepped up next to Kymiel, the pair sharing a glance.

“Ready?” her lips narrowed into a thin line, but she nodded.

They travelled in relative silence for twenty minutes, slipping between alleyways and side streets. Many were blocked with guarded barricades, bodies littering the gutters. She noticed there were higher numbers of fallen guards than drow. That was alarming. Thankfully the appearance of sunlight seemed to keep the latter in whatever holes they hid in. 

“This way,” wood creaked in protest as the elf pulled back a sturdy pallet. Frowning, Dhana darted off the road and onto the uncovered walkway. It could only fit one abreast, and that was sideways. With her shoulder breadth, the mage had to suck in her stomach and chest as best she could. Kymiel moved with grace of course, obviously used to such shortcuts. Several minutes of shuffling later found them emerging from a hedge, covered in leaves onto a familiar street. 

No-one stood outside the Yawning Portal, but she could just about make out the guard nestled inside the doorway. Kymiel was already halfway across the street by the time she realised. Cursing, she strode to quickly catch up. 

Sighting them, the guard got to his feet. Crumbs fell to onto the floorboards, only to be trampled. Seems it was lunchtime. 

“Good morning, is Durnan on the go?” the elf was straight in there, watching the guard expectantly. His gingery moustache twitched, watery blue eyes regarding Kymiel with slow recognition. Then out popped a far sunnier disposition. 

“Ah! Yer that mousy chap, the bounty ‘unter!” A brow rose, Dhana eying her companion with renewed interest. He gave nothing away, merely smiling patiently. 

“Ranger, actually. I am looking for Durnan, may my friend and I come in so I may speak to him?” 

Eyes landed on her and Dhana held her ground. The guard was a nice enough fellow if a little bit slow. Rather him than his nosier back-to-back. She smiled lopsidedly at him, though it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Ya folks seem sound enough, nae drow o’ spiders wee ya…grmm, alright, aye in ya come.” 

They were hit by a wall of humid, sweaty air. It seemed the refugee population had sky rocketed. Every surface, every patch of wall space, was either lent against or harbouring a weary looking soul. Candles burned low, numerous bar maids and clerics floating here and there. One in particular caught her eye, a brunette with a cute button nose and cherry red lips. It seemed she was in luck, an idea formulating. 

Calloused fingers caught Kymiel’s gauntlet. Ochre eyes whirled on her as Dhana steered them to an alcove beside the entrance. 

“I don’t know what dealings you have with the Duke, but if you could keep him distracted whilst I chat with one of his staff, I would be eternally grateful.” 

The intensity in which the elf regarded her made Dhana squirm. He may use that expression to get information out of others, but Dhana was a stubborn mule. Stony faced, she replied.

“I will tell you, at length, what got me to this point. In the Lady’s name, I swear,” Sepia eyes shot from his to the maid across the room, Kymiel following her gaze, “But right now that little madam is my chance of getting in and out of here without causing a scene.” 

A moment of deliberation later saw the ranger nod, but only after catching her elbow as she made to leave. 

“I will hold you to your word,” Dhana rolled her eyes and smirked half-heartedly at him. 

“Of that I have no doubt.” 

She wasted no time weaving between the masses, shifting behind tables when the bar came into view. From her periphery she could see Kymiel approach the burly owner, greeted with a warmth she didn’t know Durnan was capable of. Something to interrogate the ranger about later. Eyes swivelled back to her target, the mage sidling up with a cocksure grin. 

“Excuse me?” the pretty brunette paused and turned, ponytail bouncing about somewhat flushed cheeks. She blinked, holding her tray to her chest. 

“Yes, how can I help?” 

“I was wondering, do you do room service?” Eyebrows rose in confusion. But as the mage shifted into the light, wicked grin unveiled, the woman turned beetroot, “Because I would like to browse your wears somewhere private~” 

“I-I…y-you came back, I-…” A tattooed hand clasped her chin, tilting it upward with ease. 

“I keep my promises.” 

Moments later the tray was long abandoned, the mage being dragged up the stairs. Upon reaching the landing, Dhana dug in her heels. Her companion made to protest, but she swiftly silenced her with a heated kiss. Moments passed, the odd creak of wood settling, when the mage finally let the woman go. 

“Not your room, luv,” she gestured to the one she had slept in two nights prior, “That one.” 

“But it was cleaned out, ready for the next guest,” an uneasy curl in her gut, but the woman continued, “Your things were shifted.” 

Dhana frowned, “Where?” 

A playful shake of her head saw the woman produce a key, one Dhana instantly recognised. The armoury storage. She made for it. The brunette pulled it away, only to drop it into her cleavage. Cheeks tinted that lovely cherry red, she stared coyly up at the sorceress.

 “Looks like you’ll have to dig for them~” 

Wolfish was the only way to describe Dhana’s expression. 

“Oh, that can be arranged.”

-

 Kymiel nursed his third non-alcoholic drink of the morning, ears drooping. He believed himself a patient man, kind enough to give someone the benefit of the doubt. But after two hours, even he was beginning to lose faith. Durnan had left with the parchments the elf had delivered, handing over to his younger manager. A simple enough diversion, Kymiel thought. 

‘Now she is just taking the mick.’

Downing the last droplets of his glass, the elf pushed back his stool. No, he’d had enough. If the human was going to be this inconsiderate, he was wasting his time. Shouldering his bow, the elf made for the door when-…

 “Pssst!”

 Kymiel’s eyebrow ticked. Keep walking, Kym, just keep walkin- 

She had a hold of his cloak before he reached the hallway. Choking a little, the archer found himself bundled in behind an oversized planter. Dhana was once again bundled beneath her hood, but this time, she looked very much like an adventurer. 

“Do you know how long you have kept me waiting?” She blanched. 

“Why does that matter? I got my stuff!” he was honestly contemplating converting to Bane’s priesthood. Exhaling through his nostrils, Kymiel made to chastise her further, when the mage thrust something into his arms. 

“Plus, I got you this. Think of it as a thank you gift.” 

Tawny irises widened at the quiver thrust into his possession. Sure, they would need new fletching but…the uncanny gleam the arrows gave off. Enchanted. He paused, glancing up at her. 

“Where did these come from?” she gave him a nonchalant shrug, the gleam in her eyes a tad too bright. Nostrils flaring, the elf took a step back. It didn’t take a scholar to put that scent and expression together and find his answer. He shook his head. 

“You copulated with her to get back your things, didn’t you?” The shit-eating grin he got in response was all the answer he needed. Kymiel lifted his fingertips to his temple, “Earthmother, give me strength…” 

“I didn’t even need to use a sleep spell.” 

Grimacing, the elf looked at the quiver utterly disturbed…they hadn’t…near…Gods… 

“Anyway, I promised you a story, so let’s ditch this place and I’ll talk those point ears of yours off.” 

“I’m suddenly overcome with an overwhelming need to vomit,” but it seemed the mage was having none of it. Hands on his back, Dhana pushed Kymiel towards the door. Their guard friend bid them a lethargic wave, suspiciously rosy in the cheeks himself. 

“Looks like you have competition, master elf~!” the mage brims with self confidence, crossing her legs with a boastful flourish.

“Is that so?” Kymiel raises his eyebrows in silent challenge. With a slight curl of his lips the archer returns to fletching.