#fxglove

bg3 companion banter (accepting).

the alley shimmers under a sickly orange sunset glow and the bricks of adjacent buildings bend at the edges of their perception. shadows stretch like smoke and curl into hissing, taunting shapes all around them, and the faint smell of rain mixes with something sharper. every surface hums with a quiet tension, and the air feels thick, almost liquid, pressing against her skin. rose’s gaze flicks to the edges of the twisting shadows and almost instinctively, she takes a step so she's back to back with orla.

❛   — you're delusional if you think you can just outrun this.   ❜ she says plainly . . . not caring much anymore how harsh she comes across. the alliance has a way of falling apart under pressure that keeps glimmer up at night. she'd sooner let the moons die out than stop fighting, though. how others can be so complacent absolutely baffles her. ❛   it doesn't matter where you go or who you become. the horde will be on your heels regardless !   ❜

orla has been a thorn in her side for too long now. glimmer is confident that the war can be won without them, but it would be a stupid move for a commander to just let a potential recruit slip through their grasp. she stares orla down . . . a charred and still - smoking chunk of what once was a house between them. another village reduced to little but piles of ash and anguish. they'd been too late, and now their thousand yard stare works overtime to pierce right through the princess's body.

she wants to get in their face and start screaming. she wants to demand that the scene unfolding around them invigorate them rather than shut them down completely. she wants everyone to follow her instructions, to just listen to her for once, so this can all end.

the sky over salineas burns orange with the fury of horde flares rather than the beauty of the rising sun. glimmer has wedged her way into this mission whether the other rebels like it or not, knowing that ensuring the wellbeing of sea elf village's inhabitants is higher on the list of priorities right now than knocking her down a peg. while sea hawk, spinnerella, and netossa evacuate the final borough, glimmer and orla do a sweep of mermista's abandoned palace.

little queen teleports through the corridors at a pace so rapid it almost makes her dizzy. by the time she ends up reuniting with orla in the throne room, she's panting hard.

❛   — if that's the case, we have to get out of here.   ❜ glimmer remembers her first visit to salineas . . . how their stairways were crumbling and their remaining guards ready to flee. if mermista's staff was hard to maintain then, she doubts they'd grit their teeth and bare all of this. ❛    here. i'll teleport us back to the ship.   ❜

glimmer places a hand on orla's rather impressive bicep and gives them a mere second to brace for her magic. if orla had any specific feelings about her putting herself on the line like this, they'd been smart enough to keep them to themselves. maybe she's finally earned their respect. wouldn't that be something ?

❛   wh — what ?! no way ! i can handle this !   ❜ no sooner than the princess cries out does the first ones guardian they've awakened take a swipe at her. fresh out of teleports, glimmer jumps to the side, shrieking as the great claws of the beast graze her side and send her careening to the ground. still, she would sooner spit the dirt from her mouth than admit defeat.

somewhere across the clearing, both bow and adora yell for her, but they're far too occupied with a rogue rhino-pig that's been disturbed by the chaos to reach her. that leaves her with orla who, yes, has an impressive set of powers . . . but is an all - around hard pill for glimmer to swallow. how does someone find the time to be so goddamn cagey in the middle of a war ? don't they have bigger fish to fry than their angst ? and now they, what, want to come to her rescue after refusing the call of the rebellion numerous times ?

[ orla wanting to join the rebellion, even this late, is actually a very good thing, but the princess of bright moon is nothing if not a bit petty. ]

glimmer wobbles to her feet, really feeling the effects of her dwindling magic now. she can't even summon her father's staff to use as a physical weapon. orla uses their super - strength or whatever to briefly incapacitate the guardian by flipping it onto its back. then, they turn to her, a look of urgency in their eyes as the beast attempts to clamber back to its feet. this is her last chance for a guaranteed out.

for the first time ever since she's known them, sunny's stomach drops. she pulls her knees to her chest, careful to extend her skirt down past her ankles, and turns her head to hopefully catch the other's eye. orla stares at the floor with a look so pensive it almost makes her head begin to hurt. or maybe that's just the . . . disappointment ? no, that's not the right word. that's not the right word at all !

trains that aren't theirs rumble past. people walk past them with little care in the world. it baffles sunny how life goes on even after things like this . . . after things like orla is describing. the revelation that it was bane bouquet that had saved the lives of her and her friends all those years ago [ that they were really real ! ] was one thing, and finding out that orla herself was one of them was a whole other. and then came the questions, because she never knows when to quit, not even when she's poking a still - visible wound. sunny hangs her head against her knee in shame as orla subtly unravels in front of her.

she had been so happy to realize she liked her. like, like liked her. it was the single most freeing thing that's ever happened to her, and that alone is something to celebrate ! to have orla feel the same way would just be the undeniable cherry on top. but she is no juliette. she is no magical girl. she is but a whimsical splat of humanness on the pavement of the city orla has retired from consistently saving. and she hates herself for having a knee - jerk reaction of something akin to jealousy for a girl who did so much good . . . and met such an unspeakable end.

sunny takes a moment to breathe. then, she sends a heartfelt apology up to the sky for the wilted belladonna.

"I know that feeling, trust me. But even if you could, that would likely just open up an entirely new can of worms. It's better to deal with the known than the unknown, after all; who is to say that if you did go back and change things, something else wouldn't go wrong instead?"

"That doesn't need to define you, though. And you're hardly the only person in the world that's true of."

paris doesn't think they've ever been more pissed off in their entire life. they've also never been so desperate to prove themselves, to find a way to up and impress orla, who has been snickering at them for the past five minutes. what began as an arm wrestle has now mutated into a full on, whole - body wrestling match in what they suppose has become their joint living room, [ they've been crashing there long enough for that to be the case, at least. ] and paris is somewhere between fighting back and getting their ass handed to them.

orla's muscles are bigger than theirs. orla has more combat experience, whatever the fuck that means. and orla is also a seasoned rock climber, which doesn't matter much in this context, but annoys the fuck out of paris anyway. why does she have to be so much better at everything ? and why the fuck do they care so much that they read as cooler than her ?

as their back hits the cushions of the couch [ per orla launching them onto it with ease, ] they shake their head and attempt to collect their thoughts. maybe they can drop to the floor and kick a leg out from under her. the element of surprise, or something.

before they can move, however, orla's full body weight [ all that muscle! ] comes down atop their lap. an involuntary, indignant gasp escapes their lips, and paris furrows their brow. ❝ — what the fuck ?! ❞ is all they can say, especially as her thighs tighten around her legs, more effectively trapping her there. paris' hands find her waist in an attempt to have purchase, but she doesn't move much beyond that.

she should try and launch her off. she should try and send her toppling over onto her back, but she can't for the life of her focus on anything but the way orla's middle is pressing against her stomach. orla takes that chance to pin their shoulders against the cushions, and the momentum of the past five or so minutes begins to slowly drain out of the room. what's left is heavy breathing, two chests rapidly rising and falling as paris tries to avoid eye contact with the one who's very clearly bested her.