๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ is that she is not cold. regardless of how close to the fire she slept, regardless of how many blankets were wrapped around slight frame, the chill of the shadows seems to sink beneath her skin and wrap around her bones. it's a relief to leave those lands behind for the relative comfort of rivington and when she slowly rises to her feet, too lazy to suppress a yawn, her gaze drifts towards the looming towers of the city cloaked in stars. in doing so, sharp gaze also picks up on movement towards the far corner of their camp and a tent purposefully chosen to ensure some measure of isolation.
โ isn't awfully late to still be up scheming? or too early, really, depending on how you care to look at it. โ the usual bite accompanying her words is absent, tempered by another brief yawn. he seems wide awake, gortash, possessing the sort of energy that leads her to believe sleep hadn't been pursued in the first place. something cutting begins to form behind her teeth, syllables molding into place effortlessly, but she swallows it with a sigh. no use in starting the day off with a battle before the sun's even risen. โ get some sleep. we're close to the city and you'll wish you had rested with the pace we need to keep. โ
her eyes trace along the items meticulously organized in and around his tent, metal catching the pale moonlight. โ whatever you're working on, โ her arms fold over her chest, fingers absently tugging at the ends of messied hair. she isn't certain she cares to know. โ surely it can wait until dawn. โ @banedictus
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@banedictus: don't give away your thoughts. you won't get them back.
Enver knows damned well that she canโt keep her thoughts wholly to herself. A brain denied oxygen and permanently damaged is an impetuous thing that even Salome struggles to control at times, yet it wonโt stop him from insisting. These sorts of things are a tenet of the religion to which she converted, after all.
โI donโt give away anything Iโm not willing tโstand for. Yโshould know that more than anyone.โ
And though the sun hangs low on the horizon, there is just enough morning light within their shared quarters that her brace glints as Salome tinkers from her side of the bed. Goes through now memorized motions of daily maintenance โ all skills Enver has taken the time to teach โ to keep the clunking, laborious movements of being part automata at bay.
Her hands wrapping tight around the steel and gilded appendage as she heaves a sigh and turns to regard him, to determine which mask it is that Enver is wearing, if any. Feet pushing her whole body backward before Salome tangles a hand in her husbandโs unruly locks and presses a savage kiss to his temple.
โNow, do yโwant me tโmake some coffee before your meetings this morning?
@banedictus โclever. you were testing me, werenโt you?โ
As a stranger in these planes, flourishing with new matters of creatures, magics and GODS by which heโs never seen nor heard of before--- it was important to achieve his baring's. Both in surroundings and the people in it. Any means to find the possible answers he seeks for his affliction. Perhaps even more than a mere cure to be uncovered. Yet, heโd be ever the fool to blindly seek the audience of any mortal. People were fools, cowards, far too quick to bite at an unfamiliar hand. Especially one the likes of his own. There was a need for reputation. And Gortash merely happened to be one of those to catch his flaming eye. His name was whispered among the people; genius, strategic, informed, damnable. The very traits in a person the corpse blood would speak with.ย
And it was worth the effort of worming his way into the manโs company and forcing an unseen hand at his schedule. Time was made, allowing for a more formal conversation to be held, and privately at that. Gortash proved very much to be the man that he was rumored as. Agravaine watched as reignition washed over the younger's features. Wits were quick about him too, this one.
"Clever? Or simply thorough? You question my methods as though you have not done similarly. People are best measured by such tests. Their valuation, their knowledge, and their ability to react and adapt. All things worth knowing about a person before your time and resources are wasted." He lectured, head canting as he watched Gortash from where he sat. There was a near smile in his words that the bleak and expressionless mask he donned did not convey, "You passed. I believe we could prove useful to one another, if willing."
โyou might have fooled the others. you havenโt fooled me.โ
she'd not expected this meeting to go any other way. Enver had clawed and manipulated his way to power; to discover the summit had dulled him would have only inspired disappointment. Lark grants him a smile, an expression of edge she knows he expects; they are far too alike for anything resembling true affection to take root.
his the jackboot.
hers the off-hand blade one paid no mind to until it had opened the throat.
โno,โ the word a sigh released in the same breath as her false form. patriar's features dissipate into her own, into a form almost too long for the chair she has yet to relinquish. โyou, I never expected to fool.โ her smile remains; something else creeps forward to brighten it, an impersonal source of warmth, an ancient, oily hate, suffusing the room. โhello, Enver.โ
โย whether you come as a lover or an executioner, i am ready to receive you. ย โ / hi. the post-game year.
"well, forgive me for failing to make an appointment in advance." a brow arches before the iron door has slammed shut behind her, the creak of ancient hinges now familiar to her. "i was under the impression your schedule was quite open for the next, hm, ten months, isn't it?"
it should startle her, how unchanged he looks these past few months. most men would've crumbled beneath the weight of such a loss, would've shattered after seeing such carefully crafted plans come undone, but enver gortash has never been most men.
"i hope you won't be disappointed to hear i've come on matters decidedly more mundane than either of those options." arlis settles into one of the chairs adorning the cramped room and immediately her gloves are plucked off, delicate fingers all but twitching with relief to be free of them. she doubts she'll ever become fully accustomed to them as she places them in the small bag at her side. "besides, it's been an awful lot of work keeping you alive, in case you've forgotten."
for a moment, she thinks she spies something akin to bemusement in his dark eyes. the gilded clothing is long gone, the adoring gazes once cast in his direction now turned to scorn and loathing, but he still carries himself with a certainty that arlis has only recently begun to mirror in herself. lord or not, before the nobility of the city or before her alone in a room barely a step above a cell, that air of authority hasn't changed.
"we both know nothing involving me airs towards the mundane, arlis." a shadow of a smile appears on his lips. he isn't wrong, though her gaze shifts southward, to the true reason for her visit.
"no, that'd be far too easy." she sighs and shifts, jaw working silently before she continues. "i've come to let you know that you won't be made to wear one of those collars again, the ones crafted for the gondians. the few that still remain are to be destroyed within the week."
there is a flash of genuine surprise on his features, though it quickly changes to curiosity. "and is this your doing? you managed to convince the patriars to abandon such a suitable instrument of punishment?"
"it's simple politics, enver." her arms fold over her chest, though her response lacks any true bite. "a public remark or two about being better than our would be oppressors, a thoughtful statement in the gazette about how too many of my fellow baldurians were choked by the force of the absolute, little things here and there. suddenly, it seems in poor taste to put one of them on even baldur's gate's most hated man."
arlis stands, words sharper, firmer. "they're hideous, those things. the city'll be better for their destruction. no one should be forced to wear them." there's a pause when her gaze finds his. "not even you."
as she draws nearer, she can detect the tell-tale sign from just along the edge of his shirt, against the arch of where his neck meets the broad curve of his shoulder. a hand extends slowly, cautiously, and arlis ignores the brief flicker of disdain that's kindled in enver's eyes when she moves rough linen aside.
they're ugly marks, cutting deep into irritated skin rubbed raw against sharp spikes and too-tight steel. they were crafted for smaller necks, after all. her lips purse into a thin line as her gaze traces over them. it's worse than she had anticipated.
worse yet is the recognition, the profound understanding, that he deserves this and far worse. it sits uncomfortably within arlis as she reaches into her bag.
"hold still." her fingers dip into a small jar, the scent of herbs immediately filling the meagre room. enver flinches when they come to rest against his neck, but she doesn't try to guess whether from discomfort or something else. she repeats herself. "hold still. it'll scar if it isn't tended to."
it's a simple balm but one crafted carefully. it'd been too great of a risk for even the savior of baldur's gate to try and smuggle in something possessing real magic, anything capable of healing beyond what might be purchased at an apothecary. even this is a risk, but one she finds is worth taking.
her fingertips gently press the salve along the rough edges of the gashes and bruises painting his neck, his skin warm beneath them. she can feel muscle against the line of his collarbone, knows it would only strength were she to follow it along his shoulder and arm. enver doesn't move, even though she does not doubt the salve's harsh sting. "do you feel differently about those collars, enver?" she reaches for more, her words as slow and thoughtful as her work. "now that your neck knows their weight?"
he doesn't reply. she isn't certain she wants to know the answer, but she thinks there is some answer to be discerned from his silence. her thumb glides upwards and comes to rest over his pulse. it's steady, even. it betrays nothing. how strange that she should be so very near his throat without the intention of wounding it, but rather to tend to it. stranger still, arlis finds it doesn't frighten like once it would have.
her fingers move once more of their own accord, brushing over the stubble lining his jaw and into ebony hair. for the briefest moment, only half of a breath, she thinks he leans into her touch.
that, somehow, is too much and arlis immediately withdraws her hand. "hide this. apply it every other night so no one notices it's working," she sets the jar next to him, hurriedly reaching for her gloves. she's at the doorway in a few steps, final words quick and quiet before she knocks for the guards. "and don't make me regret it, enver."
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[ hand kiss ]ย โย for the senderโs muse to kiss the back of the receiverโs hand.
"don't."
a hand lifts in warning the moment he comes into view. the goal had been to hide herself away outside the tavern, tucked into the shadows of the alley until some balance had been restored, until she'd felt like herself again and brought the words swirling in her mind to a halt. naturally, it would be enver fucking gortash to disrupt even the most private of her plans.
"i don't want any sort of assessment," arlis' hand remains lifted, each word enunciated through gritted teeth. she hopes its faint tremble is not evident. "and i certainly don't want a conversation. not now."
it had been an accident as much as it had been an impulse. there'd been so many bhaalists all at once, hidden away amidst the calm and quiet of the park. it had been the perfect place for them to strike, to ambush, in retrospect. where else might someone lower their guard within the lower city but amongst neatly kept paths, amidst the gentle trickle of fountains?
she blinks and swallows hard against the earth still lodged in her throat, the dust coating her tongue. his dark gaze is assessing, very nearly curious, though it lacks its the ruthless gleam she's become accustomed to. he takes another step forward and arlis repeats herself, both a warning and an order now. "i mean it, enver. there's a reason i'm not with the others. i need-, i need space."
it's hungry still, that thing inside of her. it had been insatiable when first untethered in the park, furious and rabid, and to think how closely it had ebbed towards the others once done with the bhaalists feels her with dread. she hadn't been in control. it'd been reckless, dangerous. (had it been the same way for thorm? had it been exhausting, keep that maw leashed? had it thrilled him like it did her, the surge of all that power after so very long with none?)
"your god doesn't worry me," gortash waves a hand dismissively and is closer yet, too close, "your's and mine have decided to tolerate each other for the time being, in case you've forgotten."
"he's not my god," her gaze flicks up and there's a sharp twitch of her fingers, the beginning of a call she refuses to answer. arlis clenches her hand into a fist, "and i'm not thorm. i'm not... practiced at this, not the way he was."
"regardless, it's clear you have at least some of what power he did. you'll need to learn how to master it, lest it master you." gortash takes her hand, ignores the faint flinch it coaxes from her, and carefully, gently moves her fingers from digging into the tender flesh of her palm. his fingers wrap around her own to steady their trembling.
her gaze follows his, down to the dark bruises mottling her knuckles and trailing to her wrist. if arlis looks close enough, long enough, a part of her knows she will see them move, shift, darken further still.
gortash traces his thumb over the back of her hand slowly, almost tauntingly. "see? i've hardly succumbed." he turns her hand and allows a finger to brush over the lines of her palm, against the ebbing shadow at its heart. his next words are softer. "power isn't something to fear, arlis, not when you're the one wielding it."
then, without so much as a warning, gortash lifts her hand and presses his lips to its back. the tenderness of it startles her, disarms her, but to her own surprise, there is no attempt to withdraw her hand. if anything, she thinks she does not want it to end, this warmth that cuts through the chill wrapped around her bones.
this realization should frighten her, but she finds she does not want to fight against it.
"don't let the others in your party convince you otherwise," he releases her hand and yet again, still, there is no cruelty in his words, no cutting edge or disregard, "you can only control something if you understand it."
there is something new in his gaze, equally as bright but not nearly as dark. it looks like respect. "who knows, perhaps you'll surprise us all and be even stronger than our dearly departed ketheric by the end."
@banedictus: "That's a poetic observation, coming from such a savage creature.โ
Speaking of poetic. The timing is dreadful. He utterly would render unto her what due, even if it sounds more an insult to anyone with nerve enough to pry an ear into their private conversation. Her body on a lone knee โ the one so ornately decorated by Enverโs hand โ whilst Salome sheaths her equally intricate koummya and takes the time to dispossess their previously vulgarian client of his coin.
One that could either bleed out on the ground beneath them, or survive long enough to become bound by the words that spilled out from her mouth like warm honey in the spring sun. Leaving him eminently more agreeable for future encounters and charitable to the cause both.
Slender hands cradling his jaw long enough to cast her tender smile as a spell to memory, and then unceremoniously, ungracefully, allows his head to fall to the stone floor. Her own mind just elsewhere enough, even as the din of gold and black bangles along her arms clamor for their ownerโs attention as her body returns to proper standing posture.
โYโdally with an artist, and yet yโseem surprised when I ramble off something halfway peculiar? How cute.โ At the heart of it, Salome knows the quip is meant to be a term of endearment. The Lordling-in-Waiting sees her as a wild, ever seasonable creature that has been impressed upon enough to grant him singular access to her soft underbelly.
Hell, she doesnโt even have to affix her gaze on Enver to know what sort of smirk he is wearing. Whether itโs a sixth or seventh or ninth sense by now, she understands all of the ways her body processes his presence โ in one way or another โ even when she is barely focusing on his physical person at all.
The pouch of coin still warm in Salomeโs grasp before it is pressed without an ounce of fanfare against his chest, though there is a storm brewing in her amber eyes if he were to look for it.
โSpeaking of observations, Iโm still convinced yโbring me because yโlike how I look when I take your rude clients off t'chess board.โ
โ Love doesnโt keep us from freezing to death, or starving, or being killed for whatโs in our pockets. Love doesnโt buy us anything, so be glad for what you have and who you have because you may want for things but you need nothing. โ
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ a lecture from him would instinctively coax venom to her tongue, his unwavering sense of superiority neither requested nor appreciated. however, sharp retort is stayed out of both surprise and curiosity with each unexpected word after unexpected word. arlis does not, however, rise from one of the only slightly musty chaises adorning the center of the room, instead offering up an arched brow while arms cross behind her head.
โ i wasn't aware you'd been taking note of my private life. โ there is a strong emphasis added. his time amongst their camp, and certainly within the tighter quarters still of the tavern, has allowed him glimpse into what she's never attempted to hide, but it's different to hear him speak of it aloud, to confirm his knowledge of where and in whom her affections are found. her voice is quieter now. โ and i'm more than glad for who i have. i'm grateful in ways you can't even fathom for him. save your sermon.โ
her head cants to the side as she slowly sits up, tongue tapping against her teeth. โ i'll admit, i hadn't expected you to take a stance on love, bitter as it is. matters of the heart never really seemed your sort of interest, enver. i always was under the impression they were beneath you. โ arlis studies him now with intensity of gaze that he normally reserves for her; perceiving, dissecting.
a sudden blink of dark eyes, the briefest furrow of her brow. โ someone loved you once, didn't they? they offered you something that wasn't fleeting, more than just want or desire. did they offer you something true? โ once, long ago and only for the briefest of moments, she might've felt something more for him but it was never any shade of love. he'd always felt incapable of both receiving and giving something so painfully, hideously human, enver gortash, and to consider him in so new and alien a light startles her.
was there ever a gap in that armor, something unguarded and ungilded? soft enough to bruise at gentle touch?
โ no-, no. that isn't it. i think that might only amuse you, being loved, or perhaps it'd only bore you. โ arlis stands now and each word is gentle despite certainty. โ oh, but you loved someone, didn't you? that's why you speak the way you do. you loved someone, enver, or alt least you felt the closest thing to love that you cobbled together from the bits and pieces you had. you gave what you could. โ
another realization, another understanding as she takes a step closer. โ but they aren't here. for all your talk of ruling, there's never been mention of another throne to rest beside your own. all that power, all that domination you so dream of, and you've no one to share it with. when it all ends, it'll just be you.โ
he thinks her heart a weakness, a distraction. is that animosity because he had once entertained his own and learned how ardently it could ache? โ i'm sorry that they're gone, enver, whoever they were, โ a hand lifts of its own accord and for the briefest moment, fingers trail feather-light over the arch of his cheekbone. โ and i'm so sorry that your's will be a very lonely kingdom. โ
