Contemptuous Creatures, Chapter 26- 'A Word, If You Please'
All this and more on my Ao3! :) Full chapter under the cut!
“It's fucking freezing here and I hate it.” I say as I wrap the blanket more tightly around myself. I have been trying to sleep for over an hour now, but am kept awake by the unrelenting chill that permeates the air.
Raphael sits on the chair by the window, reading one of his books that he’s conjured to occupy his time while I sleep. Attempt to sleep, anyway. Each time I complain, turn over, or pull the blanket impossibly tight around me, I can practically feel Raphael smile. He reads by the light of a floating flame he’s also conjured, and the room is otherwise dark aside from the eerie glow of the blueish hue the snow reflects from the moon through the window.
“I offered to be your bedfellow,” Raphael reminds me, “I was told—what was it—to ‘jump up my own arse and take a whiff’? And they say the Lower City folk lack artistry…” “Ughh.” I groan and pull the blanket over my head, “Fine, sit on the bed.”
“What was that, dear? I’m afraid you’re speaking into what passes for a mattress in this little hamlet, and I cannot hear you. From your diaphragm, if you please.”
“Sit on the bed,” I say through clenched and chattering teeth, lifting my head up so the words are clear, though I am certain he heard them just fine.
“Sit on the bed…?”
“Please.”
“Oh, well, if you insist. And with such fine manners, too.” Raphael says smugly. I feel the weight of him dip the mattress at the foot of the bed. The relief is instant, and I press my feet against his thigh.
“Can you make the blanket warm, like you did the coat earlier?” I ask.
“Of course I could,” Raphael says simply with no effort to make it happen. I consider asking with a ‘please’, but I get the sense Raphael prefers me using his body rather than his magic for comfort.
After about a minute, I have inched myself further and further to be close to Raphael’s heat that I am curled up like a pill bug, legs tucked in so my feet and bottom are by the devil’s leg. My face and shoulders are still frigid, and I am shivering frequently.
After another few minutes, Raphael slowly lowers himself down so he is lying beside me, head propped up on his hand. Half-asleep, I curl into him, my face in his chest. The warmth allows me to rest more fully. How unimaginably odd it is, for sleeping next to a devil to be the most comfortable thing I could do.
A hand rests on my hip, slowly trailing up and down the side of my body, from hip to shoulder. The hand grows a touch more bold, beginning to rub my backside, a little more insistent. A new hardness begins to assert itself against my belly.
I tense up. I’m finding I do not want to have sex with Raphael, not now. For one, I am exhausted, and secondly, there is an effect about being on the surface of Faerun that makes it feel more… real. This is where my friends are, my real lovers. It’s where Astarion is. Not nearby, of course, but on this reality, this plane…
But can I refuse Raphael? I haven’t ever tried or wanted to—each time we’ve touched, there’s been a clear desire, but that’s absent now. He won’t care, would he, if I told him ‘no’? He’s an archdevil of the hells, the son of Mephistopheles—he wouldn’t simply be denied something he wants, right?
“Shh, sleep now, little mouse,” Raphael says softly, lifting his hand from my rear and resting it on my upper arm, “Rest. You are safe.”
I pull myself back to look at him properly. Is this some kind of trick? He does not seem angry or annoyed as he looks down at me with a surprising softness,
“Of all the sins I commit, I do not take lovers who are not displaying their unrestrained desperation for me.” He says with a cocky, but reassuring smile, “You will crave me soon enough, and that is something worth waiting for.”
Raphael conjures his book and reading flame again, holding the novel open with one hand above me, the other still supporting his head as his attention drifts comfortably from me to his reading. A tension I hadn’t even noticed was there in my chest relaxes as I know he will not touch me against my will. I resent the odd feeling of gratitude I feel—it is hardly a kindness to not assault someone, but I admit I’m pleasantly surprised I didn’t have to so much as push his hand away or make an excuse. Less could be said of others I’ve lain with, and here, an archdevil can respect a boundary without issue.
I watch Raphael’s face read as I lie next to him, my feet pressed against his legs to warm up. He really is a handsome devil; a strong jaw and nose. Eyes focused on the lines of the story- he is not rushing his reading, he is really taking in the story, it seems. Illuminated in the soft light thrown by the floating fire, the contours of his face are striking.
“You aren’t expecting a bedtime story, are you?” Raphael says without taking his eyes from the page. The corner of his mouth tics up in a small smile.
“Not expecting, but I wouldn’t say ‘no’,” I say, adjusting my position to get more comfortable. Raphael turns to me.
“If I read to you, will you put away those dreadful puppy-dog eyes of yours?”
“Dreadful?!” I say, pushing his arm a little, “How dare you- I’m adorable.”
“You are, and it’s…nauseating at times,” Raphael says, nose scrunched as if there is an unpleasant smell.
I burst out laughing at the earnestness with which Raphael says this. At my laughter, Raphael’s face softens, and he laughs as well. We settle into a comfortable silence for a while.
“Raphael, are we… friends?” I ask, “Or are you just using me to get this Crown?”
Raphael closes the book and puts it down,
“I do not see why one would negate the other. Friends use each other frequently, do they not?”
“Not for total control over the hells, no.” I say, “Friends do things like cook for each other and stand up for each other in conflict. And it can’t be just one way, it has to be balanced.”
“Once the Crown is in my hands, I could grant you anything you desire.” Raphael says, “Perhaps even freedom from your last two debts to me”
“That ‘perhaps’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting there...” I say, and Raphael laughs gently, affirming that what I said was accurate.
“Clever girl.” He praises, and I feel a familiar surge of warmth deep in my belly. Damn this creature’s velvet voice.
“What makes this crown so important anyway?” I ask, trying to distract myself, “Aren’t you powerful enough?”
“The Crown of Karsus, forged with potent Netherese arcana, could allow its owner to conduct magic free from the Weave and Mystra’s reaches. It sat as little more than a useless artifact in the basement vault of Mephistopheles for more than a millennium before it was recently stolen. Once I take hold of the Crown, not only will I wield its powers, but I will rightfully ascend to the level of Asmodeus himself.”
“Okay, well that’s not going to happen.” I say, flopping onto my back, “I think the Crown should get back to Mystra where she can keep an eye on it. Or better yet, be destroyed.”
“We shall see,” Raphael says lightly, looking down at me, “Your companions seem to care for you greatly; I’m confident they would do nearly anything to ensure your safety.” “Is that a threat?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“When I threaten you, you will know it.” Raphael says, “I only mean that their imaginations are surely running wild with all the horrible, depraved things I could be doing to you.”
Another stirring deep in my belly forms as our eyes meet for a long moment. I think for a moment he might kiss me. Or that I might kiss him.
“Go to sleep, little mouse. You are a terrible distraction.” Raphael says with a degree of fondness, pulling his book back out and flipping to the page he was on earlier.
“Good night, then.” I say, with a confusing mix of disappointment and relief. Part of me does want to climb on top of him and throw his book against the wall… but I think if I do, I’d regret it. I’m tired and cold and Raphael is right- I’m not craving him the way I usually do. While we’re the surface, all I can think about is the faces of my friends. They’re close now, but so far away…
I close my eyes and try to focus on my breathing, shutting out other thoughts. Sleep comes slowly as I inch ever closer to Raphael to combat the chilly air. At some I am being held in one of his arms, my head resting on his bare chest, my arm wrapped around his middle. He must have taken his outerwear off, for he is only wearing his thin white undershirt.
Half-asleep and with the soft firelight glow from the reading flame, I feel as if I’m back at camp. There is no heartbeat keeping time under my head, but that feels familiar too, as if I were lying with Astarion. The heat of Raphael’s body is not unlike Karlach's. The soft sound of pages turning could just as easily be Gale… I close my eyes again and sleep deeply at last.
Sunlight cascades into the room, waking me up. I am fully wrapped around Raphael, arms and legs while he is now reviewing what seems to be Infernal contracts floating above him still. The arm I’m resting on is lazily stroking my back as if lost in thought but stops once he realizes I’m awake.
“You snore, you know.” Raphael says without looking away from the floating parchment as I blink my eyes open.
“Yeah, I’ve been told that before.” I say, groggily sitting up and stretching my arms above my head. The air is cool, but refreshing after hours spent next to Raphael’s extreme warmth, “Good thing you don’t sleep.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to. Your nasal cacophony will not be ignored. I pity your companions.” Raphael says playfully, “I assume Astarion is the one you lay with the most? His was the name you called most frequently during the night.”
I feel my cheeks turn pink, though I can’t quite place why. Perhaps it’s because sleeping chastely next to Raphael was the most intimate thing we could have possibly done. Maybe it’s because I’m embarrassed that he gained some insight into my unconscious mind. I’m not surprised I said Astarion’s name out loud. I’ve been avoiding thinking of him, swatting away his face appearing in my mind like an insistent gnat. It aches too much to dwell on. Our last meeting, making love- truly making love, not just fucking was… perfect. So lovely and affirming, it was possibly one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. We were so close to getting to a fully platonic place-- well, I was anyway. I think Astarion’s already gotten there, but I got pulled right back into my little infatuation.
I mentally swat Astarion’s face away again now as it forms in my mind, swat away my urge to know what he is doing, if he is safe.
If he’s thinking of me, too.
“You have something of a ‘type’, perhaps?” Raphael says, interrupting my thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“Beautiful, cruel, and soulless.”
“He’s not cruel or soulless!” I snap, standing up and stepping away from the bed, “You don’t know him.”
“Forgive me, I did not mean to strike such a nerve,” Raphael says, and as angry as I feel, I believe him. I believe he didn’t intend to irritate me, but I feel just so protective of Astarion, especially when he’s not here to advocate for himself.
I straighten out my clothes and try to fix my hair a bit in the mirror, as it’s been mussed over the course of the night, and try to ground myself in the moment. Raphael stands as well, fetching his jacket and brushing it off. He is inspecting the garment as he says,
“Your vampire is… fortunate to have someone like you.” The words sound forced but sincere, as if they are in a language Raphael is newly learning. I turn to Raphael, who looks composed, but almost too much so, as if he is forcing a neutral posture and expression while he adjusts the sleeves.
“In what way?” I ask, wondering if I could wrangle a direct compliment out of him.
“Don’t push it.” Raphael says with a playful sneer, buttoning up his doublet, “Come, we will get you fed before preparing to see our darling, dear Haarlep. I am sure they are most anxious to see you.”
Raphael and I sit and eat a breakfast of unfathomably salted herring, which is, apparently, the local delicacy. The attentive innkeeper watches as I try to choke down the overly salted fish on toast with a smile. Raphael orders a second helping on my behalf to the delight of the innkeeper and horror of myself. I quickly request for it to be packaged so I can ‘savor it later’ and Raphael orders a third helping for the road so I can have the second helping now. I kick him under the table but manage to finish the second dish under the careful eye of the kindly dwarven innkeeper and my hellish companion.
“Thank you for visiting!” Says the kindly innkeeper as Raphael and I walk toward the exit of the building, “You two lovebirds have a great day! Is it a long journey home?” “It’s a ways south.” Raphael says slyly, “Take care, now. The little missus and I will be sure to visit again soon.”
Raphael steers me away from the view of the innkeeper and out the door quickly before anyone could see me pretend to gag.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” I ask.
“I have my moments.” Raphael says, “Are you ready, my sweet?
I take one last inhale of the uncomfortably freezing, but undeniably Faerun air before nodding my head. In a sudden whoosh of heat, we descend back down to the depths of hell.
~~~~~ Back at Camp ~~~~~
“Alright,” Wyll says as the companions gather at first light to make a plan for the day. “We cannot ignore the threat of the Steel Watch any longer. Every day they march forward into a tyrannical rule from which our Bauldarian’s must be free. At the same time, we have to find out the truth about Tav, once and for all. La’zel and I have come up with a plan to divide and conquer.”
La’zel nods affirmatively, standing ram-rod straight, arms behind her back, dutifully.
“To the foundry to dismantle the Steel Watch, we need a combination of stealth and power. For this team, we are going to have Karlach, Shadowheart, and Astarion.” Protests are already forming, and Wyll raises a hand to indicate silence for another moment. “To the diabolist will be myself, La’zel, and Gale.”
“I’m going to the diabolist,” Astarion says firmly.
“We need your stealth to get into and move around the foundry, Astarion. This isn’t negotiable.” Says Wyll, just as firmly.
“I want to go to the diabolist too,” Shadowheart says. Wyll runs a hand over his face in frustration.
“You should not have done such a poor job the last time you were in the hells then.” La’zel snaps back, “It was your team that allowed for Tav to be caught in the devils claws, was it not?”
“But Gale can go again?” Astaion protests indignantly.
"What, exactly, are you insinuating?" Gale demands, hands on his hips.
“Listen up!” Wyll says forcefully, and the camp turns to him, “We are playing with strategy, not feelings. You were chosen for your assignment because that assignment needs you. You are all smart, strong, invaluable members of this team. Assignments are not up for negotiation, and any further arguing is just more time we sit here without answers and without the Netherstone we need. Are we understood?”
A grumble of acceptance passes through the camp. Karlach catches Wyll's eye and mouths a silent “thank you” for her placement. Of course, she would go to the hells again for Tav if it were necessary, but it’s a relief to beat up these big steel baddies instead for the time being.
“I… I could help. I want to help.” Says a voice from behind the adventurers, pulling all their attentions. Hope emerges from the tent Tav had once held. “Can I help you?” “I wish to help as well.” Says Halsin, who had been brewing tea for the crew and is now passing mugs and cups along for everyone, “Those metal contraptions are an affront to nature. It would be a pleasure to tear them apart.”
“You needn’t feel obligated—” begins Wyll,
“But we do. I do, anyway. I will not speak on behalf of Hope.” Halsin says, gently smiling at Hope and handing her a cup of tea, “The urge to cause destruction does not find me often, but it has here, seeing those… wretched things stomp around the city.”
“I want to help too. I can heal, I am a healer. You have a healer already, but there is more than enough hurt to go around.” Hope says with a stressed sounding laugh.
“Alright, you two can join the Foundry team,” Wyll says, not wanting to place Hope in the diabolist team.
“Are we not going for subtlety and stealth?” Astarion asks with an arched eyebrow, “That’s hardly going to be accomplished if we bring along a party that rivals the Circus of the Last Days. Perhaps we should invite Lucretious along as well?”
“I did like her,” Karlach says.
“She did have a certain panache, didn’t she?” Astarion agrees, trailing away from the conversation at hand.
“Oh, for the love of the Gods, can’t you two focus on anything?” Complains Gale in near unison with La’zel.
“I’ll go to the diabolist.” Says Hope, turning all faces back to her.
“No, Hope, you don’t need to do that.” Says Karlach, approaching Hope, “You can go to the foundry or stay here, but you’ve only just escaped from hell.”
“I know Helsik. She knows me. We both know Korilla. And Raphael. It could be good… I could be good.”
“Why not stay here and rest?” suggests Wyll, “You’ve been though enough…”
“I CAN HELP!” Hope shouts, with a sudden rush of anger that surprises the group, “I was trapped, chained in a state of not-doing and now I want to do!! Miss Mouse would do! She does! I can too, and I’m going to Helsik and I don’t care if you don’t want me to or not. You can’t stop me.”
The ferocity of Hope is unexpected, but in a way that seems to inspire the team. It seems all of the companions were pitying Hope for what she’s been through, but pity isn’t what this cleric wants or needs. She needs to be empowered.
“You heard her.” Halsin says with some pride, “She’s going to the diabolist.”
~~~~~ Back at the House of Hope ~~~~~
Raphael and I arrive in the House of Hope in another fiery blaze. My heart aches to leave the surface but the heat here is far more comfortable than the frozen tundra we were just in. We arrive in the portal room, and I immediately begin to walk towards the office where Haarlep is being kept.
It’s only a few steps before I remember I’m tethered to Raphael, who is taking his sweet time walking. I try pulling him forward, but to no avail. My feet slide as I try to drag Raphael ahead,
“For gods’ sake, would you come on?” I demand trying to get to the office
“I do not rush for anyone, especially the gods. Though your efforts are both valiant and entertaining.” Raphael says, taking deliberately slow steps. I release a frustrated exhale and wait for him to catch up. We walk at a damned snail's pace and eventually are led to the office.
Smoke is curling up from the gap between the door and the floor, and it smells of smoke and burned wood.
“Haarlep?” I call out once we’re in hearing distance, “Haarlep, are you there?”
“Pet!” Comes Haarlep’s excitable voice, muffled from behind the door, “Pet, it’s you! Do please tell Raphael to let me out, would you, my dear one?”
We finally approach the door, and I look at Raphael expectantly to unlock it. After a dramatic flourish of adjusting his sleeve, Raphael passes his open palm over the door, and it unlocks with a mechanical-sounding click.
A burst of smoke emerges with Haarlep as they exit. Haarlep is naked and covered in soot and scratches, looking like they were just in battle. They rush over to me, looking over my body and face,
“You are well? Safe?” Haarlep asks, eyes wide, gently touching my cheek. Their hair is wild, tangled around their horns and falling accross their face. Somehow it only makes Haarlep more attractive.
“Yes, and are you--?”
The second thing Haarlep does is turn away from me, lift Raphael by the neck and slam him against the wall. In his human form, Raphael is significantly smaller than Haarlep, and his legs do not quite reach the ground, dangling below him. Raphael’s face remains unperturbed hands steadying on Haarlep's strong forearms.
“I did not like your game, Raphael.” Haarlep hisses, nose to nose with Raphael.
“If you thought this was a game, perhaps you need a bit more time to reflect...” Raphael says with a smug smile.
I take a peek into the office, and it appears to have been entirely charred. Furniture has been thrown and damaged, and small flames are still burning across the room. It looks like a dragon had been released in there.
Haarlep sneers and tosses Raphael down the hall a small ways as easily as a rag doll. I am tossed along with him, bound by our invisible tether.
“Apologies, pet!” Haarlep says, rushing to catch me, just before I hit the ground, “Please forgive me!” Haarlep casts some spell, and I feel the tether release. Haarlep helps me stand, and Raphael, who has changed into his cambion form just before crashing into the ground, stands on his own.
“I do hope you’ve gotten this out of your system, Haarlep. I do not wish to fight with you right now.” Raphael’s shoulders are squared; he is clearly irritated that Haarlep is not displaying contrition. Haarlep does not seem to have gotten their anger out of their system as they match Raphael’s posture. Chests are puffed out, arms are flexed, and fists are clenched. I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t intrigued by this brutish display of power…
“Master, an update.” Comes a different voice. Korilla approaches from the other side of the hall behind Raphael, and we all turn to look at her, “Unless now is not a good time…”
Korilla looks between Raphael and Haarlep, throwing me a small hateful glance as well, which is returned. Bitch.
“No, your timing is most opportune, Korilla.” Raphael says, dusting off his doublet, “What news from our young adventurer friends?”
“You saw them?” I ask Korilla, “Were you spying?”
My mind is flooded with contradictory feelings. Fury that Korilla was watching my friends without them knowing, jealousy of her being near to them, and a desire to know for certain they are well.
“Yes, mouse.” Korilla says in a patronizing tone, “That is very much my job. Do you have any other inane questions?”
I resist the urge to make a rude gesture and settle on a glare and crossing my arms over my chest. Haarlep comes to stand next to me, a large hand on my shoulder. I’m surprised with how much I’ve missed Haarlep- their presence really is grounding and I let myself melt a bit into their touch.
“Go on, Korilla.” Raphael urges,
“Another Netherstone has been acquired. The one from the Bhaalspawn, Orin. The six are preparing to get Gortash’s stone within the tenday.”
Pride and relief bloom in my chest, unfurling wildly. ‘All six’, Korilla had said- that means they’re all alive. And furthermore, getting the stone from Orin is such an accomplishment. I could cry for how glad I am to know this and Haarlep’s hand squeezes me lightly and happily before pulling me toward them.
“Very good.” Raphael says approvingly, “The conditions for negotiation are ripening perfectly.”
“There is another thing,” Korilla says with a glare towards Haarlep and myself, “the adventurers seem to have been under the impression that your mouse is dead.”
Raphael’s face tenses and his eyes narrow, “And how, may I ask, did they come to this impression?”
“They said you told them yourself, Master. That you visited their camp and told them Mephistopheles killed her. Apparently, you told them the entire deal was off; the mouse for the hammer.” Korilla says matter-of-fact.
“Haarlep.” Raphael says with a chilling calm, glowing eyes flashing to his incubus, “A word, if you please.”
