#elenna

Dalamus looks up from his task of putting burn salve on the back of one hand. The backs of his hands, his arms below where his sleeves were pushed up at the elbows, and some of his face and ears bear mild sunburns.

Evidently, Astarion still had not believed that Dalamus would burn so easily in the sun--after all, the tadpole prevented Astarion from burning--and the vampire took off with his piwafwi to prove the point. It took only minutes to prove him wrong, and he snatched back his piwafwi with a string of curses.

Dalamus' hands seem to slow in their movement as he considers the words--briefly, but noticeably, before they resume polishing the stone against grit.

As Dalamus opens the flap of his tent to leave it, he stops in his tracks, gaze drawn downwards by the object which was certainly not there before. Red eyes squint skeptically before glancing around at camp to see if anyone is acting suspiciously, but everyone appears to be doing their usual.

Perhaps it is intended as a gift? Surfacers are strange and seem to enjoy just.. giving things away. For no reason. For no reward.

Dalamus slowly stoops down to get a better look at it--and it (ultimately harmlessly) explodes into colorful glittering bits! The most undignified yelp escapes him as he is startled backwards onto his butt on the ground, eyes wide and heart pounding as glitter flits downward like colorful snow to add to the sparkling mess already covering him.

All heads in camp swivel towards the sound and shout, some with surprise, others with concern--aside from Astarion, who is doubled over in hysterical laughter, wiping tears of joy from his eyes.

Fair enough!! It's entirely understandable to have some wariness when dealing with a Lolthite. I don't know which is worse: the rumors and stories people would tell about them, or their actual behavior.

And don't get me wrong, Dal has very biased thoughts and will do questionable and cruel and objectionable things. But he's of course also just a person. A person who's grumpy and needs to lighten up lmao

I think Elenna's curiosity will serve her well in getting on Dal's good side! He doesn't mind talking about Lolthite things, obviously, because it's normal to him. And maybe in turn he'll ask "Well what do Surfacers do for XYZ?" and he'll actually learn something

I'm not entirely sure what he thinks of Elenna yet, other than his default "minorly annoying Surfacer" first impression of literally everyone kjdhfg

With no obvious keyhole to lockpick the door, the two are forced to scour the stone walls on either side. Elenna checks the left side of the door while Dalamus looks at the stones on the right.

The stones of the wall are imprecisely cut bricks of granite, crudely shaped into close-enough sizes to fit together, with the occasional smaller stone--some improvised from the surrounding area--shoved in a gap for support. Hardly elegant at all, although Dalamus cannot argue about its strength. He taps and presses on stones, but none yield to his prodding. Who knows what form this button or switch might take?

Then, the texture under his fingertips changes. This stone is different. It is smoother, with a finer grain, more carefully cut, but small enough that the naked eye would not be able to see the difference at a glance. The mortar around it does not seem to have bonded to the stone.

With some force, he manages to press the stone into the wall, and finally... his pointed ears perk up as he hears a click from the door.

Success.

He puts his gloves back on. "Had they used granite instead of basalt for the button, it might not have been so obvious."

Querida Andrea de 18 anos,

Você estava entediada na aula de matemática do cursinho e escreveu três parágrafos. Era só uma história para postar num blog, juntando aventuras de RPG. Você achou que seria fácil escrever um livro. ACHOU ERRADO OTÁRIA!

Você vai parar de ficar triste pelo Elie, vai chorar pelo Rodrigo, vai ter o coração partido - e também vai partir alguns - para se casar com um homem Terrível! Em 2018, seu marido vai ler o “Diário de uma Andarilha” e vai te dizer: VOCÊ TEM QUE ESCREVER, ANDREA!

Você já ouviu isso algumas vezes e, por mais que arrisque uma coisa ou outra, você não acredita nas palavras.

Dessa vez, você vai acreditar.

Essa é sua cara após terminar esse romance que você está rabiscando. São 139.561 palavras. Após 16 anos da primeira, quando você nem sabia o que queria escrever. Depois que você desistiu tantas vezes que desistiu de contar.

Na Direção da Estrela está escrito. Falta revisar, editar, infartar a leitora crítica e os betas, levar socão na cara, chorar os cortes, as alterações e as piadas não compreendidas. E publicar.

Do the write thing. Seja burra, não desista! Não acredite em você porque você não é confiável. Acredite em quem te ama e siga o conselho deles porque não vai falhar:

VOCÊ TEM QUE ESCREVER, ANDREA!

Te amo, sua idiota. Nos vemos em 2020!

VAI CORINTHIANS!

They are not +18 or porn drawings, thanks !

Drawings/Designs by https://www.deviantart.com/evamisstopia-adopts

“Background,” Dark Years - TolkienGateway

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