#bulette

Frost was sitting in a tavern on the edge of a big city, just enjoying a drink alone. Though the man was alone, he didn’t feel nearly as lonely as he usually did. He had found that having tons of people around him sometimes helped with encouraging him to socialize. And this being a tavern with a bar, what better way than to drink a little bit and socialize with some one-time friends? 

Frost put his empty glass down and cleared his throat. He was still processing the taste of the cocktail, enjoying the sour, yet slightly sweet drink he had ordered. He couldn’t remember what he had ordered, but he was enjoying it. Nearby though, Frost was watching an altercation between two customers. 

“STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!” One of the drunk guys shouted. 

“SHE’S MINE! FUCK YOU!” The other guy shouted. 

“WHY DO YOU GET TO HAVE HER?!” The first guy shouted at him. Frost widened his eyes as a fight quickly began to intensify beside him. “BECAUSE I SAID SO! NOW FUCK OFF!” The other guy yelled. 

When Frost looked to where the girl was, he noticed the girl giggling and whispering to her friends. Quickly, Frost began to understand that the girl had made them go against each other…And it wasn’t because she loved them. 

He turned to the two men with a slight frown. “Boys, please…” Frost spoke up. “Don’t you realize what’s happening?” He asked them. The boys paused their words and looked at Frost with offended looks. 

“The girl you’re both interested in, wanted this fight to happen. She’s playing with you both.” Frost told them. 

The first man growled. “Excuse me?!” He spoke up before looking at the girl. But the girl pulled herself together and waved at him with those god awful, lovey-dovey fluttering eyes. Frost would have thrown up from how disgusting her behavior was. “Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me, feline!” The man raised his voice at him. 

“This is between the two of us! Stay out of it!” The other guy yelled. 

“I’m trying to save you the trouble.” Frost told them. 

All Frost heard was a loud “SHUT UP!” from the first guy, before his whole body was quickly coated with a sticky syrup. Frost yelped and covered his face with his arm, not expecting such an attack. The sticky syrup coated everything. His face, his robe, his arms, even his legs were covered! And droplets quickly began falling onto his feet. Frost was horrified! He was absolutely humiliated! He looked at the man with shock, mixed with betrayal. 

“That’s what you get, fuzz-brain!” The first man yelled at him, throwing the large glass to the bartender. The bartender didn’t catch the glass, making it shatter on the ground in front of the bartender. 

“Yeah! Take that, kitty cat!” The other man yelled, laughing at the ‘sticky’ situation. 

Frost slowly lowered his arms, visibly annoyed and tired. Great…How is he ever gonna get this off? Frost attempted to wipe a bit of the sticky syrup off himself, but it only made the syrup spread over more of his body. He tried to wipe some off his forehead, but ended up only getting more onto his forehead. It was quite annoying. 

Here, let me get you a clo-” 

BAM!

The door SLAMMED open, revealing a ginormous, whale-looking creature with legs and a giant tail. The bartender quickly gasped and hid behind the bar, abandoning his initial offer. The other guys saw the creature, and screeched, running to the bathroom. 

“What the-” Frost turned around to see what had come in. And to his absolute horror…A bulette had walked itself into the bar. Frost froze in fear, before turning around and looking forward, visibly terrified. Oh GOD…He’s read about these evil creatures! They’re the most feared creature in all of Avantris. Bulettes are known for being so ferocious and dangerous, that they could make even the strongest of warriors grow anxious! These Bulettes were known for their constant hunger for fresh, living meat. And fearing the worst, Frost jumped off the chair and slipped into an empty booth. 

The moment he made it to the booth, he hid behind the pillowed wall, desperately trying to hide from the terrifying creature. And for the moment, it felt like he might be okay…

That was, until the bulette started moving. The loud, ground-shaking steps of the bulette left everyone in the room frozen in fear. No one wanted to move for fear of getting eaten alive. The bartender stayed as calm as he could, considering the circumstance. Everything was deathly quiet…not even a mouse could be heard squeaking. 

The bulette moved forward, up to the bar. Its huge nose was snorting and sniffing, presumably smelling the air. Frost gulped and stared at the bulette as more of the creature came into view. The bulette was HUGE! Its size on its 4 legs was taller than Frost on his 2 legs! It actually looked like it could take up most of the room in size alone! Frost watched as its big belly got closer to his booth…so close, he could see its large, muscular body inhaling and exhaling. Its body armor was expanding as well, terrifying the tabaxi. The look of it perfectly described what they were: Killing machines with the ability to eat any poor victim that crosses its path. It was quite terrifying, to say the least. If Frost ends up surviving this, then he’ll never complain about anything again. 

But his fear intensified when he saw the bulette turn itself towards him. Its beady, orange eyes looked at him, as if eyeing him up for a good, delicious meal. Oh shit, Oh SHIT, OH SHIT! Frost struggled to keep his anxiety under control as he saw the bulette’s possessive gaze on him. Frost tried to look away, as to not draw any attention to himself. He began to PRAY to any god out there, that this creature will not swallow him whole. 

And just as he feared, this bulette turned itself in Frost’s direction. Frost’s anxiety was beginning to drive him absolutely mad! NOTHING IN HIS TRAINING WAS WORKING! BECAUSE THERE WAS NOTHING THAT HIS TEACHER COULD TEACH HIM ON HOW TO HANDLE A NEAR-DEATH SITUATION WITH A BULETTE! 

The bulette moved closer to Frost, and brought its giant snout closer and closer to Frost’s body. Oh god NO! NO NO NO NO- PLEASE! Frost stayed as quiet as he possibly could, silently PLEADING for the bulette to spare his life! 

The bulette opened his mouth, revealing its tongue. Oh GOD NO! Frost braced for impact, preparing himself for the worst. The worst was about to happen! He’s SCREWED! HE’S GONNA DIE! THIS IS IT! THIS IS HOW IT ENDS! 

Frost’s eyes opened wide the moment he felt a thick, slobbery lick from his chest, up the side of his face to the top of his head. And though it was absolutely TERRIFYING, that tongue licked up his neck. And when that tongue so much as touched his neck, Frost had let out the most inhuman sound known to man! It didn’t hurt! The lick didn’t even make him gag! 

Despite the rough feeling of the tongue, the licks didn’t actually hurt him! It didn’t hurt at all! To Frost’s surprise…It tickled him! Like, REALLY tickled him! And that inhuman sound he made? It was a high-pitched squeal! It was a feeling so outlandish and out-of-place for a moment such as this! So bizarre, that the feeling had initially thrown him off guard! 

Frost squealed as yet ANOTHER lick covered his neck! “WAHAHAIT- NOHOHOHO!” Frost shouted. 

Geez, even the lick on his cheeks were beginning to tickle him! Why?! WHY THIS?! WHY IN THE NINE HELLS, DID HE HAVE TO BE SO TICKLISH?! WHY NOW, OF ALL TIMES! He’s supposed to be terror-stricken! He’s supposed to be SCREAMING! NOT LAUGHING! TALK ABOUT HUMILIATING! 

Frost squeaked and bursted out in more cackles as another lick moved from his robed belly, up to his overly ticklish chin. “Ohoho gohohod- NoNOHOHOHOHOOO!” Frost shrieked and tried to cover his chin, but to no avail. 

Another wet, sloppy lick went up the back of his head, making him squeal and raise his shoulders. But the kicker was when the bulette’s tongue reached his ears. That’s when he REALLY SQUEALED! 

“OHGODNOHOHOHO! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHERRRRE!” Frost screamed, trying to cover his ears. “STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIT!” Frost shouted at him. 

The bulette just kept on licking though! It absolutely covered his poor ears in slobber! That bulette seemed absolutely determined to lick every morsel of him. But this was just the beginning…

Cause the bulette kept going! The bulette slowly began to lower its tongue to the shoulders and upper chest and arms. The poor man was giggling and laughing helplessly as this ginormous, usually terrifying creature was tickling him senselessly. To say it was wild, wouldn’t even come close to being accurate enough. 

The thing is, Frost is ticklish just about everywhere. While he’s usually able to handle keeping it together when others try to tickle him, this tongue tickled him in just the right way, that he couldn’t control himself! Every little lick was a rough, yet soft, ticklish experience! Each lick coated him in this slippery slobber, which made him even MORE ticklish the next time he was licked! And the cycle kept repeating! The poor man’s upper body was already soaking wet from the tongue, which only made each new lick even more ticklish! 

“FUHUHUHUCK! PLEHEHEHEEEASE! IHIHI CAHAHAN’T TAAHAHAAHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT!” Frost shouted at the bulette. 

But regardless of his protests, the bulette just kept on tickling. It refused to stop, and only continued to tickle, tickle, tickle him. Frost yelped as the stretchy, wide tongue snuck into his armpit, and tickled down his ribs to the side of his belly. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHEHELP! STAHAHAHAHAHA!” Frost couldn’t even get full words out, let alone sentences! 

And a little reminder: Frost was wearing ROBES right now! So the fact that he was being tickled so much while STILL HAVING SEVERAL LAYERS OF PROTECTION?! What are the chances of that?! 

But as if it couldn’t get any more ticklish, it did! Cause this evil, mischievous bulette had the AUDACITY to shove its explorative tongue inside his robe, and lick the furry body underneath! Frost practically screamed and lost it with hysterics. “GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHOHOHO! NOHOHO- NO NO NOOOHOHOHO!” Frost shouted and struggled to get the tongue out of his robe. “IHIHIHIT’SSOBAHAHAHAHAHAD!” Frost kept yelling helplessly. 

Suddenly, the tongue slipped out of his robe! Frost squeaked and took in a deep gasp of breath, curling up slightly. “Ohoho gohohod…Ohohokahahay…ohokay…Haha…Haahaa…” Frost mumbled, unable to prevent some of the giggles from leaving his mouth. “Ahahare…Are you dohone?” Frost asked the bulette. It was like he temporarily forgot he was talking to a BULETTE of all things…

Frost looked up at the bulette, and watched as the bulette licked its lips, leaving a tiny rainfall of slobber to fall onto him. Frost attempted to shake himself off without showering the bulette in his own slobber. As much as he was thankful for the chance to breathe, he was terrified that any little action would lead to offending the bulette. 

As he was still in thought, Frost felt as the bulette brought its snout closer to his belly and started sniffing. Frost froze in fear for a moment, nervous that he might’ve already given him enough disrespect to warrant being eaten alive. But when his snout touched down against his stomach, the snout started sniffling and snorting more, making his nose move around his belly. 

Frost widened his eyes before squeezing them shut, feeling the slight ticklish sensation from its snout alone. Oh no, oh god…It’s ticklish again…

Dammit…

Frost could feel a gentle snicker leave his mouth. “Kkkkhehehe-!” Frost giggled, his face visibly red from the embarrassing laughter. 

To tell you the truth, Frost was not a giggly person. He barely even smiles nowadays! So the fact that this bulette made him laugh, let alone smile, was already impressive on its own. And though he didn’t mind some laughter…This was a MILLION times more than he’d ever gotten! 

“Ohokahahahay…Ohohohokahay! Thahahat’s enohough plehehehease.” Frost opened one eye, and gasped with terror as he saw the tongue falling out of the bulette’s humongous mouth. “OhgodNO!” Frost threw his head back with a surprised squeal as a surprisingly small lick coated his belly once again. “Ohoho-nohoho!” Frost’s body was already shaking a little bit from the giggles, as he felt another lick against his bare belly. “Nahahaha!” Frost jumped as a bigger lick coated his lower belly! “eEEEK! GAHAahahahaha!” He suddenly cackled! 

It really didn’t take long for Frost’s giggles to turn into full-on laughter…especially with the bulette increasing the size and frequency of the licks. It looked like the bulette was starting to tickle him again…only this time, it was on his entire bare belly. 

“Plehehease stahahahap! Ihihit’s sohoho ticklihihish- GAHAHAHAHA!” Frost bursted out in even MORE laughter as the bulette’s slippery tongue slipped around and coated his lower back. “SHIT! OHOHO SHIHIHIHIT!” Frost cackled and laughed, wiggling and squirming helplessly. 

And then…as if it couldn’t get worse…Frost felt as the bulette turned him over to the side with its paw, and just coated more of his back with its tongue. The ticklish feeling was absolutely unbelievable! It made Frost’s laughter go silent a couple times! Frost didn’t even know his back was this ticklish! It feels almost impossible! Though he was thankful his body was super resilient, the tickles were starting to really take a toll on his physical strength. His squirms were beginning to slow down as he struggled to even think straight. All he could think was ‘TICKLISH! TICKLISH! CAN’T STOP LAUGHING! AAAAH!’...

The bulette let out little growls and grunts as it kept coating his poor back in more slobber. Just like with his ribs and neck, the slippery slobber kept making him even more ticklish! So if he was silently laughing from the tickles alone, then the slobber was only going to make things even MORE worse! And GOOD GODS! He’ll never be truly ready for that! 

And again, just as fast as it started…the tongue slipped back into the bulette’s mouth again. Frost gasped and heaved heavily, doing all he can to replenish the oxygen and energy he had lost. He was absolutely WIPED…

“Aha…Ahare you…d-done?” Frost asked. 

The bulette only let out a low grunt in response. Frost didn’t know what this low grunt meant. Did it mean ‘yes’? Or ‘no’? Or maybe ‘I don’t know’? Frost had no clue. And even if he wanted to, Frost can’t properly figure out what the bulette’s thinking without risking offending it. So he had to rely on the creature’s grunts and actions for now. 

“H-Hello?” Frost spoke up. “C-Can someone help?” He called out, sounding slightly desperate, and super tired. 

But no one answered. Was the tavern hall empty? Did…Did Frost get abandoned in the tavern with a giant, hungry Bulette?! Talk about betrayal! 

But Frost’s thoughts were quickly interrupted when he felt the bulette’s nose sniffing down. Oh gods…where’s that nose heading?! Frost was growing super scared now. What was the bulette planning? What was it seeking out?! Why does it keep licking him to a pulp?! He’s gonna look like a drenched rat by the end of this! 

Thankfully, the bulette’s nose seemed to stop at his lower femur bones. But…usually when the nose stops sniffing…that’s when the tongue starts licking! Oh GODS! And right as he predicted, that dreaded tongue fell out of its mouth and started licking up the front of his right leg. And this didn’t just tickle…this DESTROYED HIM! Due to how long the bulette’s tongue was, it was unintentionally licking his inner thigh too! Which, if you weren’t aware, was one of Frost’s most ticklish spots on his body! 

“FAAAAHAHAHACK! GAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHA!” Frost completely lost it with laughter. Every long lick sent pulses of electricity through his body! The laughter was silent, if not hysterical! He probably sounded like a madman by this point! Cause he certainly didn’t sound like Frost anymore! 

Not only that, but Frost’s body had gotten a newfound wave of energy, and was now wiggling like an absolute maniac! He was trying everything, and I mean anything to try and get himself out of this bulette’s grip! It was driving him absolutely wild! And he was certain of his fate: Frost just might die of laughter! Or, from asphyxiation from lack of oxygen! He had never, and I mean NEVER been tickled this much in his life! 

And then his second thigh was licked to a pulp! Each new spot made new shock waves fill his body and new forms of wild laughter leave his poor, aching lungs. He couldn’t even shout protests, curses or pleads anymore! All he could do was scream and laugh. And boy oh boy, was he nailing that part! 

“HAHAHAHAHA! EEEHEEEHEEHEHEHEE! GAHAHAHAHA!” Frost cackled and laughed, shaking his head. “PLEHEHEHEHEEEEE!” Frost begged helplessly as the wild tongue made itself around the back of his thighs. The poor man’s face was REALLY starting to hurt and cramp from all the smiling he was doing. His ribs were getting pretty sore too. It was getting to be way too much for him…

Thankfully for Frost, things would calm down momentarily…Cause only a couple seconds after, the bulette’s evil tongue moved itself down past his knees, and down to his lower legs. Frost finally felt like he could properly breathe! He took in as deep of a breath as he could, determined to calm himself down. The feeling of breathing felt amazing…like the warm sun heating you up after being drenched in water. The chance to breathe and calm down felt like pure bliss…

Well…It would’ve felt like pure bliss, if it weren’t for the unbelievably intense tickles he felt against his foot. Poor Frost didn’t even know that the bulette was going for his feet at first! So naturally, Frost had gasped and shrieked. 

Fearing the absolute worst, Frost immediately covered his mouth with his hand. He stared at the bulette with helpless fear, knowing his worst spot was about to be licked to pieces. And Frost KNEW he was NEVER going to be able to stop it! He would just have to take it! 

Frost watched as the blasted tongue fell out of its gaping mouth, and completely engulfed his underfoot with the lick of a slippery, brush-like tongue. And Frost SCREAMED as he pulled his foot away! But that stupid tongue kept getting closer and closer to Frost’s feet! The most wild part was that Frost was still wearing his shoes! The bulette hadn’t even removed his socks and shoes yet! So Frost was screaming from how ticklish it was WITH HIS FEET STILL COVERED!

“FAAAAHAHAHAHAAA! NoNONOOOOHOOOHOHOHOHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Frost was absolutely losing it with laughter. His laugh sounded so hysterical, it almost sounded like a witch’s cackle! In most situations, people would’ve heard it and laughed. But because they were in a tavern with a super dangerous bulette, there was no laughter filling the room besides Frost’s booming, shrieking laughter. 

The bulette’s rough tongue was going from his lower heels, to the tips of his toes. And GOOD LORD, HE WAS LOSING IT! “AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! P-PLEEEEHEHEHEEEEEASE! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!” Frost was barely able to make words at this point. Frost was just about dying of laughter. His feet were the absolute WORST ticklish spot on his person! Though the shoes helped with dumbing down the ticklishness, it only dumbed it down a slight bit! So Frost was still LOSING IT with laughter! 

Frost’s cheeks and jaw were sore by this point! He had gone limp about 10 minutes earlier, due to having no more energy to wiggle around. So the bulette didn’t even have to keep his legs down with its paws to properly groom him. Though, the bulette still did it, because of Frost’s occasional twitches. 

It was all too much! He couldn’t take it! Is this how he’s gonna die?! Is Frost gonna die from laughter?! WHO DIES OF LAUGHTER?! OF ALL THE WAYS TO DIE! 

And then, right as Frost felt like he was gonna asphyxiate…The tickling stopped! Frost gasped for breath and laid his head onto the booth seat. Holy shit…He was exhausted. He felt like he was gonna fall asleep right then and there. Every breath felt like heaven and hell at once. While the breath felt great in his lungs, his body was screaming for more and more oxygen! So, he kept breathing and heaving. 

The bulette just watched him with this blank stare…And Frost could see it. The bulette looked…curious? It didn’t look murderous, like the books he had read made him believe. He looked curious…in an almost puppy-like way. 

Frost took in a couple more breaths in an attempt to speak. “H…Hello…H-How…How are you?” Frost asked. 

The bulette leaned forward, and sniffed him with its twitchy nose. Still nervous, Frost tensed up in case the bulette still planned on eating him. But again, to his surprise, the bulette gently licked his cheek again. Frost opened his eyes, and looked at the bulette, who was licking its own wide lips. 

“You’re…” Frost stared at the bulette. “You’re not gonna…” Frost started to ask. 

The bulette let out a huff through its nose, filling Frost’s face with a puff of air for a moment. And then, the bulette did something incredible: 

It rested its head onto Frost’s chest! Exactly like a cuddling dog would! 

“Oh wow…” Frost muttered, staring at the giant bulette as it laid against him. For its side, the  bulette was surprisingly lightweight. Maybe the bulette is being careful not to crush him? 

“Are you…sparing me?” Frost asked very carefully. 

The bulette licked its lips and looked up at Frost with those infamous puppy eyes. 

Frost was shocked. He NEVER would’ve imagined a bulette to spare him! Frost immediately knew he needed to repay the bulette! But how? 

Frost placed his fingers onto his own forehead. “How can I repay you?” Frost asked in its mind. 

The bulette nuzzled its nose into his chest slightly as its deep voice filled Frost’s mind. 

“P e t  m e .” The bulette spoke to him. 

Frost widened his eyes. I’m sorry, what?! He wanted Frost to…Pet him?! Frost very carefully lifted his hand up, and laid it onto the bulette’s fur. Surprisingly, the bulette’s fur was super soft! Like, more soft than he ever would’ve expected! It…felt really nice. Slowly, Frost started to pet the giant bulette’s head. 

And oh gosh…The bulette closed its eyes and actually snuggled into his chest! Frost thought he was losing it. Was this bulette acting…kinda cute?! And nearby, Frost could hear gasps of surprise, as well as…a single happy coo from a little kid. Frost was speechless. He NEVER imagined himself to be the subject of a bulette’s love. This thing was ginormous. And it was…being really kind to him. Not only was it sparing his life, but it was asking Frost for pets. 

“So…What’s your name, big fella?” Frost asked. 

The bulette visibly smiled a bit. “M y  n a m e  i s  H o l l o w .” The bulette spoke in his head calmly. 

They were out hunting again.

Imrae had offered to take over that particular duty, but if Zhah wanted one thing less than to interact with Astarion again, it was for his partner to be out alone in the Underdark with that arrogant creature.

It was hard to imagine how Tav had talked the vampire into another attempt, but this time around, he at least had pretended to listen to any instructions. Instead of coming along in just his shirt and pants, Astarion had not shed his armor and weapons at the end of the day, but had worn them on the hunt, perhaps finally aware that the Underdark was more dangerous than he had first thought.

Perhaps he was afraid of Zhah now. The thought brought a smile to the drider's scarred face as they wandered on the rocky trails in search of prey.

Imrae had said that he had felt something tunneling and lurking in the area, too small and too slow to be a purple worm. Bulette, ankheg, umber hulk?

Whatever it was, Zhah listened to the tremors in the ground even more than usual. His sense was nowhere near the scale and precision as that of his partner, but it helped to stay safe nonetheless.

And right now, it alerted him to the scattering of small claws nearby.

Two white arrows. Two squeaks of death.

Vermin for the vermin.

Zhah hissed at the thought, angry that the vampire's voice now, too, echoed through his head.

After inspecting his catches, he pushed one of the giant rats towards Astarion with one leg. The spawn had to be depleted and starving by now. “Here. Feed. You're slow. You need your strength.”

The only response he received was a mean, pitched chuckle. “Unlike you cave dwellers, I have taste.”

“You spoiled, arrogant Faerie!” Zhah burst out, blocking the spawn's path with another leg.

“Spoiled!?” The look of absolute fury on Astarion's face made it clear that he had hit a nerve.

After everything, Zhah found that satisfying. Making another lose their temper was a popular game among the nobles, but he himself had never been meant to speak much at parties.

But now, he had made the spawn so angry that all he could do was repeat himself. “Spoiled!? You wretched monstrosity!”

“Reeking parasite!”

“Crawling freak!” The spawn's face was split by a mirthless grin. “No wonder your precious drow is gallivanting around with Tav!”

It was a matter of time until he cast you aside.

“What?” Zhah paused, not because he believed either of them, but because of the jealousy in the spawn's voice.

“You heard me, I saw them, sneaking back to camp after a private moment.”

Astarion continued talking, but Zhah's ears fell numb to it when he started listening to what his feet had been trying to tell him.

Too late.

Something huge barreled towards them from below.

Just when it burst out, Zhah's leg launched the spawn out of reach, reflex, not reason, then was hit by something large and craggy, sharp teeth snapping at his arm.

Bulette.

Zhah pushed against the beast's maw, claws scraping plated skin, desperate to shove it off.

The bulette was stronger, crushing his leg with a nauseating, squelching sound.

Stifling a scream, one leg down, Zhah wrestled with the beast.

The spawn was nowhere to be seen.

Of course he'll leave.

No way to get a bite in. No way to get it off.

No way to win.

This is it.

The bulette sank its teeth into the drider's shoulder.

This time, Zhah screamed, in fear, in pain, in wrath.

Desperate, he clawed at the bulette's eyes.

This is how you die.

No use.

Please, gods, let Imrae move on quickly.

Out of nowhere, an arrow struck the beast right where its jaws connected. It roared and thrashed, fighting against something Zhah couldn't see.

It mattered not.

Zhah shoved the beast off of him, then heard the draw of a bowstring.

“Keep the thing down!” Astarion shouted.

Who is he to command you?

Wanting to live, Zhah tackled the bulette, getting on top, holding it with all his weight so it could not leap away, shoulder bleeding and aching.

The beast was weaker, somehow.

More so when another arrow struck a ridge in its plating.

Now the bulette got desperate, swatting at Zhah, claw raking across his flank.

Two more arrows, and it went limp.

Zhah almost collapsed alongside it. Without hesitation, he snapped the injured leg off at its break point to avoid losing more blood.

“Let me guess. It grows back?” Astarion asked as he drew near.

“Yes.” Zhah coughed, too weak for vitriol. “You first.” He gestured towards the corpse, then grasped at his swimming head.

While Astarion found a spot to dig his fangs into, the drider fished a healing potion from his quiver, the flask slipping his claw several times before he managed to jug it down.

His vision and his head cleared just enough that he could start to draw silk from his hind, guiding it towards his injuries to wrap them in his own special kind of bandage. A dose of venomous spit to cleanse the wound. Sticky threads to help close it. Soft threads to cushion and cover everything.

When he was nigh finished, he heard a pitched giggle behind him.

“Gods, nobody is going to believe me when I tell 'em this. Hah! Nifty, really. No need to endure snarky clerics, oh-so-wise druids, or overeager little bards,” Astarion lilted as he watched Zhah patch himself up.

“Are you... drunk?” the drider asked, trying to wrap his dizzy head around everything he just heard. “From blood?”

Astarion giggled again. “Little bit. Bulette is much richer than bear, turns out. What, you don't get this?”

“No.” Zhah scoffed. “Blood is nourishment. Nothing more.”

“Poor thing. Next, you'll tell me sapient blood's the same as beast blood.”

Zhah neared the dead bulette, then pried off plating with what strength he had left to start sating himself. “It is. I'll take a rothé over a drow or duergar. Not enough blood for more risk with sapient beings.”

“Pity. Your drow smells interesting. Kind of... salty. I wonder-”

“To keep your head on your shoulders, you will keep wondering,” Zhah hissed, interrupting his meal to glare at the vampire.

“Gods, relax, I'm joking.” Astarion swayed, catching himself against the bulette's cadaver, then pulled a red flask from somewhere. “Here. Your drow will do gods-know-what to me if you don't get back.”

Zhah took the healing potion, sniffing it before he drank. “Thanks,” he brought forth, unsure what to think of the gesture, then readied himself for the walk back to camp.

After their safe return to camp, Tav makes her way straight to Astarion, who is sitting on his bedroll after a thorough cleanup in the nearby pond. His hair is still wet and curls around his head like pale moss hanging from a tree branch.

The rest of the party has assembled somewhere else to leave him enough space so he can collect himself. No one but Tav dares to approach the vampire during one of his sullen moods. But the young drow has survived years under the harsh and occasionally dangerous sovereignty of her cruel mother; a venomous encounter with an undead high elf is nothing compared to a poisonous glare of an angry Matron.

“How are you feeling?” she asks as she sinks down to her knees, scrutinizing him from head to toe. A few scratches and a tear in his right sleeve seem the only visible repercussions of his unwanted rendezvous with the bulette. Regarding his ego however—Tav is not sure about that.

“No need to fuss over me, darling. I’m fine.” He meets her gaze with a hesitant smile which then turns into his usual simper. “Which cannot be said for the landshark. A hideous opponent indeed, but surprisingly rich in taste.”

Tav rolls her eyes from his cheap joke and gets ready to leave when Astarion catches her arm.

“Will you check on Zhah?”

She pauses, startled by the question. “Well, do you want me to?” She studies him for any falseness but finds none.

“I… Yes.” His voice loses its usual arrogant timbre. “He is a good hunter. And…”

“And?” she probes when he doesn’t continue.

“And he saved me back there. Again.” Waving through his curls he tilts his head to the side.

“I will check on him, I promise. Now get some rest.”

There is the slightest flicker of ease in the way his shoulders wind down. Perhaps he expected more poking from her.

“I will, Matron Mother.” He chuckles and evades her sloppy attempt to slap his shoulder.

“Careful, pretty boy, down here you might end up in a golden cage,” she jabs on her way back to the others.

“Not the worst fate if it’s your cage,” he responds with a mirthful twinkle.

Huffing, she turns around, making her way straight to Zhah, who is resting in a corner which he has claimed for his “nest”—a thick cocoon spun from his drider silk.

“Hey there,” she greets him overly nonchalant.

Zhah, who seems in a far more dire state than Astarion, with bruises and nasty cuts all over his spider body, looks up from the book he was reading. As he shifts to the side, she notices with a cold shudder that one of his legs has been cut off, the black stub carefully wrapped in silvery cobweb.

“Greetings, Tav,” he says in a neutral voice, but the keen senses of the young bard pick up a faint twitch in his jar—is he being nervous or in pain? “Imrae went scouting,” he clarifies when she keeps staring at him. Tendrils of darkness seem to pull at him, and Tav realizes that he is trying to hide from her sight.

“Actually, I wanted to check on you,” she quickly explains with an easy smile.

“Oh,” he sounds surprised. “Thank you.”

“Astarion told me what happened. Thank you for protecting him.”

His head snaps to the side and a low growl escapes him, twisting his face into a ghoulish mask. “Don’t mention it,” he nearly hisses.

Tav’s unease increases upon his sudden griminess. In her mind, she tries to bring back Imrae’s face. His expression when he spoke about his love for the drider gives her the motivation to speak on.

“How are you feeling, Zhah? Do you need more healing potions or salves?”

“No, I feel better already, thank you. Halsin is a good healer. I’ll be back at it by tomorrow. This won’t disturb your journey, I promise.”

“Nevermind that. Take all the rest you need.”

He observes her tentatively, dozens of small lenses glimmering in the twilight of the cavern.

“If you are sure. I won’t be a burden.”

Tav swallows. Beneath his beasty appearance there is a certain softness peeking through. And with a sudden clarity she is reminded of an encounter she had as a young girl when she stood before a cage insight of which a bear was raging, thrusting against the bars, growling and snarling and baring its fangs. So shocked and afraid was she that she sought protection behind her mother, who forced her to step closer to the cage, telling her that the beast inside was even more afraid than her. Every day, her mother would drag her in front of that creature, where she would remain until the bear was too exhausted to rebel against the intruders up until one day it would stop completely. And just then little Tav could finally see the fear beneath the rage. That animal was suffering, and she cried bitter tears because she understood that despite its composure it would kill her the instant she would open that cage.

“Don’t say that,” she whispers. “You aren’t a burden, hurt or healthy.”

Zhah regards her quietly for a moment, his heinous eyes seem to pierce through her.

“Thank you,” he finally replies. His voice has softened minimally. “Usually, I’m only tolerable if I’m useful. But I cannot blame people for that.” He lets out a long sigh. “And it’s not like that was too different before…” he gestures at himself, “this”.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been cold to you,” Tav takes one small step forward. “I was taught to avoid driders.”

He follows her every movement.

“That’s sensible. Don’t forget those lessons because of one exception.” He brushes his delicate fingers over the cocoon. “But it’s not all terrible. I’ve never run out of silk thread since, and I can protect the one I love.”

Her eyes widen. “All that silk is really from you?”

His reply comes in form of a proud smile. “Yes. It’s nice to be able to have a direct influence on the quality. Nothing worse to be blamed for lackluster quality when the raw material was terrible to begin with. I remember the year when many of the spiders fed on victims of a plague outbreak in M—” he squints to the side. “Erm. The quality was terrible that year.”

His unexpected enthusiasm steals a chuckle from her, and she is grateful to finally get to see a more personal side of him.

“Sorry. I’m rambling,” he apologizes.

“Don’t apologize. I’m genuinely curious. And I want to get to know you.”

An abrupt shyness runs across his pallid face. “Really? Erm. Thank you?”

She takes another step forward.

“You know, when I came to the surface people treated me with suspicion, too. I was the evil drow wherever I went. And they were certainly right about my mother. But I wasn’t like that. Never have been really. It was tough to make friends.”

“I see.”

“Not that I mean to say I had it as bad as you. I cannot imagine how it is to be turned in such a cruel way.”

“It’s alright Tav. You don’t have to feel pity for me. I accepted my fate long ago.”

His voice has turned mournful, and she can only wonder if he is being honest with her in that regard.

“Does being a drider hurt?” she asks carefully. “Day to day I mean.”

“Not physically, as long as I get the blood I need. It’s the foreign thoughts and the memories that hurt.”

This time he doesn’t shy away from her gaze, a sad smile forming on his face—a face that must have been very handsome once, she realizes.

“I’m so happy you and Imrae found each other.”

She settles on the bare ground the moment she notices movement in the corner of her eye. Turning toward the motion, she detects Imrae as he stores away the spoils of today’s hunt. A certain satisfaction is mirrored on his face when he silently greets Tav and his beloved from afar. And now that his partner has arrived, Zhah adjusts his position so that his body finally melts with the spare light of the cave’s glowing mushrooms.

“He’s wonderful, he’s brave, and smart, and handsome…” he praises while focused on his most precious, who is now fully occupied with his task. “Meeting him was a blessing. Not from any god. Screw the gods. What have they ever done for us, other than mess everything up?”

Tav snorts a dry laughter. “Aye to that. In fact, I left my mother before she could force me to undergo the Rite of Passage. I’m most certain that I would have failed.”

“Then I’m glad you did leave.”

A faint glow flashes across her face. “Thank you, Zhah.” She pauses, her brows knitted together. “I must say, your name is quite peculiar.”

He wiggles for a second, and Tav fears that she might have accidentally hit a wrong topic.

“I picked it after being cursed. My old name, it… Well. Too much happened. I wasn’t that person anymore, in any way.”

“I changed my name, too. And I know exactly what you mean.”

To her surprise he throws her an almost impish grin. “I figured. I have never come across a Tav before.”

Before she can reply, a warm presence manifests close to her.

“Imrae.” She jolts around. “Join us. I’ll make us a cup of tea.”

After tea and conversation, Tav retreated to her tent to get some rest.

Imrae meanwhile retrieved Zhah's comb, a beautiful tool made from rothé bone that he had bought from a dwarven trader as an anniversary present a few years back, then climbed onto a rock to groom his beloved's long hair.

He himself was content to put his in a knot and leave it there.

Zhah on the other hand groomed his hair daily, insisting that one hundred strokes were necessary to keep it healthy and beautiful. The results certainly proved him right.

Careful to avoid the wounded parts of his beloved's shoulders, Imrae undid what remained of his braid and got to work.

“Are you alright?”

As usual, Zhah saw right through his attempt to seem calm.

“There is a sussur tree nearby. I cannot tell if anything lurks there.”

“Im...” Zhah turned in alarm, then hissed and glanced at his patched-up side.

“I will not be alone when travelling there. I will talk everything over with Tav tomorrow.”

Zhah settled down again and closed his eyes. “You and her have reconnected quickly.”

“Yes. She is like the sister I never had.” Imrae leaned in closer and kissed his beloved's neck. “Did I do something that upset you?”

“No. Sorry. I believe you. The vampire was putting thoughts in my head.”

Imrae bit his lip. “I fear I might have added to the tension by confronting him yesterday during resting hours about insulting you.”

“You what?” Zhah bared his teeth. “I did not ask you to.”

“I was not going to stand by and let him do or say whatever he pleases without consequences.”

“Imrae, we talked about this.” Zhah hissed. “I am not that fragile.”

“I- No. You're not. You're very much the opposite.” Imrae took a few breaths. “My apologies. I did not mean to insinuate that you are fragile. That was not why I did it. This was about others treating you with the respect you deserve, not about you not being able to weather an insult.”

“Alright.” Zhah sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “Look. It's not like I don't appreciate that you have my back, but don't be overbearing about it. Maybe it would have been better to vent to you instead of just enduring it.”

Imrae gave a wry chuckle. “Maybe. Your silence might have been what spurred me to do it. My mind was running wild with what he might have said to you.”

“Don't worry. It was hurtful, true, but it wasn't that creative.” Zhah gave a dismissive snort, then reached for Imrae's cheek. “I will handle it. I don't know how yet. I promise that I'll keep you in the loop.”

“Very well. I promise to try to not be overbearing again,” Imrae said, giving Zhah's hand a gentle kiss before he resumed combing his hair.

As he continued, he closed his eyes, getting lost in the meditative nature of his task. He breathed in rhythm with the strokes and let his other senses wander.

The sound of his beloved's breathing was calming in his ears while the smell of Halsin's salves tickled his nose.

Within their cavern, he felt Shadowheart and Wyll play with Scratch to keep the canine content.

Tav was sitting with Gale by his tent, shifting and fidgeting while she talked to the wizard.

Karlach was sparring with Lae'zel, the tiefling's heavy stance providing a true challenge for the githyanki's rigid technique.

And at the very edge of the cavern, right by the water, a lone vampire spawn was sitting cross-legged, mending his torn clothes with careful motions.