Haarlep x Dorian Allan Gray (my tiefling)
This young bard was so easy-going that Haarlep sometimes wondered if their perfect interactions were due to their bad tempers, or because Haarlep might have accidentally fathered him with God knows who. He gave the latter option slightly less thought, attributing it to Dorian's rebellious nature.
Dorian Allan Gray, as he liked to pompously call himself. This only made Haarlep tease him more, affectionately calling him "Little Dorian." He didn't take offense. Haarlep quite naturally received "Lep-Lep" or "Little Haarlep" in response.
Once again, he came to their camp, far from everyone else, to visit his "unspoken child," and brought various little things with which they could relax.
"Horns cleaning kit?" Dorian wagged his tail enthusiastically.
"Ah, I know you weren't expecting much, little mouse. But during your travelsโฆ Just look at this."
The incubus placed his palms on Dorian's shoulders and sat him down on a soft ottoman in the tent.
"Where did you manage to get them so dirty? And this? They don't even shine."
"Ah, I thought playing the pine tree in the moonlight was a good idea. I fell pretty fast too. My tail still hurts," Dorian straightened his blue hair.
"Yeahโฆ You didn't feel sorry for your violin, did you?" Haarlep gracefully placed his hand to his face.
"My reputation in the camp was on the line!" the tiefling protested indignantly.
Haarlep merely clucked his tongue. Young and still a bit foolish, though ambitious and amusing. He picked up the tweezers and began pulling tiny needles out of the tiny crevices in his horns with a concentrated look.
"You probably just had an argument with Astarionโฆ My dear. Am I right?"
"Well, that was true! So, everyone should have known about my talent! And the treetop was the best place to show it off. Besides, the sound came better from there."
Judging by the way his tail began drumming on the ground, Haarlep had hit the base of his horns, where he began to lightly file them away, brushing off excess dirt. Dorian stuck out his tongue like a little dog, enjoying himself.
"Go on, justify yourself further, little mouse," the incubus grinned, looking at all this. "But you really are talented! I like your music."
Dorian's spirits brightened even more. Of course, praising him and giving him approvalโฆ How familiar. He works with both tieflings and devils. After all, he often praised Raph's poetry. It's hard to say who will suffocate the other with their pathos.
"I will become the most famous bard in Faerun, and my songs will be sung for centuries to come!"
"Well, naturally," Haarlep gently squeezed him and examined his horns from all angles. The excess dirt had been more or less removed; all that remained was to wipe off the water and polish them a little.
"I'll even dedicate a melody to you," Dorian promised. "I already have some ideas for that."
"I'll be looking forward to it."
The horns were perfectly polished with a special oil and literally sparkled with cleanliness.
"That's much better," Haarlep commented, about to leave, but Dorian grabbed his wrist.
"Wait. Stay for now. They won't even know you're here."
Examining himself in the mirror and realizing he looked luxurious and aristocratic, as he should, he picked up the bow and violin.
"I'm intrigued," the incubus said fondly. "Go ahead."
Now he sat down on the ottoman, his wings folded in a relaxed manner. Dorian began to play. At first, the melody seemed ordinary, even typical for any bard. But Dorian wasn't "any bard," so the leisurely low notes suddenly began to give way to a sharpness, as if the melody were becoming dangerous, as if a piercing weapon were piercing the very heart, and the fast tempo only added to the atmosphere.
"Oh, beautiful, beautiful!" Haarlep exclaimed sincerely, clapping him. "What did you call this melody?"
"The Devil's Trill," Dorian blurted out proudly. "Do you think Raphael will like it?"
"Of course he will!" "Haarlep's eye almost twitched, but he maintained his composure. "How could anyone not like such a talented person? He'll be simply enchanted by you, little mouse."
If they had a child, it would definitely be Dorian, with his perfect combination of a desire for approval from important people and a chatty tongue that eventually even managed to confuse Haarlep himself. Truly the devilish charm of Mephistopheles' tieflings.
"But the next song, with lyrics, will definitely be yours!" Dorian promised pompously, but Haarlep no longer truly believed it, simply waved it off, as if to say, "Yes, of course, you're a clever one, baby boy."
"Thank you, Dorian," the incubus narrowed his eyes with the slightly venomous smile he usually reserved for his victims. Dorian will, of course, bring home the crown and dance for "daddy" Raphael. What kind of release from the contract can we possibly talk about here, of course? As always, no one would help him. "By the way, will you clean my horns too? I'm soooo lazy doing it myselfโฆ"
Dorian, with his sweet smile and contented expression, sat closer to Haarlep, his tail intertwined with his. His heterochormic eyes perfectly conveyed his true, two-faced nature, which, for the sake of what it desired, would sing.
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