Nonverbal 2 for Cassmos or "hey, look at meâŚ" for Disaster Couple bc I miss em :c
Disaster Couple
Returning his wife to the Anderfels seemed to only make things worse. Vasili - and it was still such an odd name to churn over in his head - didnât have a lot to go on, as far as Karsteâs behavior was concerned. It wasnât that he hadnât written about her in his journals before losing his memories. No, thoughts of Karste filled ninety percent of the books. The problem was that it was all flowery descriptions of her - and her parts - and long rants about how much he loved her and how afraid he was that sheâd leave.
Really, mostly just the last. That fear had been all-consuming in the last days of his lost memory. He hadnât been much a journaler before his sickness, apparently, and once it manifested the inevitability of their separation crushed him.Â
Honestly, it had been tiring to read about. Heâd been ridiculous before losing his memories, not that heâd admit it aloud. Yes, fine, his mother had walked out on him. Sure, he was a maleficar. But.
But.
He was an extremely handsome and rich maleficar. Karste clearly wanted for nothing in her life and even without his memories he was more than happy to indulge her. She was beautiful, fascinating and a delicious challenge intellectually. Sheâd also stabbed him, having forgotten he no longer had a demon to fix him up. He couldnât ask for anything else.
Well, no, he could ask for her to not be⌠like this. He gestured at the sparse vegetation and severe mountain side. Fred yowled.Â
âPrecisely,â Vasili told his cat. He scooped up more salve and gently worked it into Fredâs skin. It wasnât chapped, not by some magic or miracle, no, by meticulous application of lotion. Did Vasili use the excuse of applying lotion to get out of manual labor? Absolutely. Did he feel guilty? Not a lick.
Fred kneaded his leg and raised his back into the gentle massage.
âYes, sheâs being very tiresome. And her little rebellionâs going to fall into shambles while weâre out here fucking around in the desert and then sheâll complain about having to fix everything herself.â Vasili chatted for the rest of the salve application and then closed the jar with a grumble. He shoved it in his pack and then settled Fred into his ring of spells and pillows.
âI think itâs time to do something about her.â
Fred meowed in agreement, far more permission than Vasili needed.
As ever, Karste couldnât meet his eyes as he approached. She bit the inside of her cheek and mashed her pestle harder into the mortar.
âThat canât be more interesting than me,â Vasili said.
Still, she refused to turn.
âHey, look at me,â Vasili said, his tone a garbled mess of demand and soft plea.
The moment Karste turned her head, Vasili grabbed her chin and kissed her. He hadnât intended to be rough, but her surprised resistance had forced his hand and then sheâd bitten his lip and grabbed his hair so tightly it hurt. It was magnificent and warmed the only cold spot in the entire forsaken wasteland she used to call home.
She tried to pull away. âVas-â
âDonât run away now. I want you.â
âVa-âÂ
He interrupted her with a kiss. âMy name isnât a no.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Vasili rubbed his chin as he looked at his reflection. George usually protested when he wore makeup, but after several years of cajoling, the demon had finally agreed that there was nothing wrong with accentuating the marks. But makeup wasnât the problem. The problem was his wife. She thought that she could hide something from him and that was unacceptable. He waited until she returned to dressing room.Â
âIâm thinking of cutting my hair.â
Karste froze, he could just barely see her on the edge of the mirror. She visibly shook herself when she straightened and though she tried to play it cool, Vasili knew better. âAre you sure about that? The, uh, Season is about to start, isnât it?â
Vasili smirked. Yes, his lovely, intelligent personified knife of a wife still stumbled over noble concepts. What a delight. He fussed with the collar of his robes. âThatâs just it. Fresh start and all that rot. You know Terenâs going to do this dramatic elf-blood reveal midway. This way I wonât be tempted to cover my ears.â
Karste hesitated and then stepped up behind him. She touched his shoulders, as if smoothing the fall of the fabric, and met his eyes in the mirror only briefly. âYouâre far too proud to consider such a thing.â
âPerhaps. But I would like it.â Vasili pulled on his ponytail and mimed cutting it with scissors. Not the most finesse in the history of his gambits, but she was stubborn, his wife.
With a disgusted noise worth of Pentaghast, Karste turned and walked away from him. She called over her shoulder. âFine! I like it! Save your crowing until Iâm in the other room. Also I hate you!â
The ceiling above him was made of stone. There were some dark stains. Splatter. It looked like blood, though he didnât know why he was so sure. He pushed himself up, but only barely managed it. Everything hurt. He felt so weak just breathing was a trial. He looked at himself. Shirtless, smeared with dried blood and covered in thin, grey tattoos. He felt- he felt like he was in Tevinter. Was he a slave?
He tried to get to his feet and failed, falling back onto the cold stone. He knocked over a silver chalice and while it fell with a clatter, it had been empty. He looked around. Definitely, definitely, a ritual dungeon and he was sprawled in the center of ritual markings. Biting his lip, he felt his ears. Yes. Pointy. Not too pointy, but too much for Tevinter.
He laid back down.
Whomever his master was would be mad enough heâd moved as it was.
There came the sound of a heavy door opening, and light flooding from a staircase at the end of the room. âVasili?â called a womanâs voice, followed by the careful click of boots on stone. She carried a lit candlestick in her hand as she moved down, one hand on her hip, the side he couldnât see.
âAndrasteâs mercy what happened to you?!â she asked as she knelt next to him, placing the candle to the side. âItâs only been two days!â
He didnât respond. This woman certainly wasnât the master here. She didnât feel or smell like mage and she dressed like a peasant from what he could see. He didnât move his head. This Vasili, whomever he was, was certainly logging all of his transgressions. Would there be a flogging? He couldnât imagine what that would feel like. Was that good or just another thing heâd forgotten like his name and where he was and everything.
Actually, he remembered one thing. A slave covered in lyrium tattoos. The designs didnât look like his, but maybe they served the same purpose.
âVas! Talk to me!â She slapped his cheek lightly.
He really didnât like this. This was exactly the kind of test heâd do if he had a slave. Send someone to interact with them and then punish them for responding. Maker, but he was too clever to be a slave. It wasnât fair.
ââŚyour marks are different,â she breathed, speaking mostly to herself as he stayed still beneath her. âWhereâs George? Can you cast anything?â
Well, he didnât remember who George was either and if he showed her his prowess heâd be in a very liable position, so he continued his vigil lying silent.
âVasili Sokolov I did not marry you just to peel your stupid ass off the floor because you canât handle me going away for two days with my sister!â Her voice grew louder and more frantic as she felt him down, for injury maybe.
Those hysterics certainly sounded genuine. And there was no sign of his master so far. He whispered, âShut up before you get me whipped, woman.â
âThis is your own home, you imbecileââ
Then suddenly, as if realizing, she let go of him with her brows creased in worry. âYou havenât called me that since we married,â she said quietly, âThereâs really something wrong with you. What have you done to my husband?â She cradled his face with her hand, looking at him as if searching for an answer.
âIf I killed him, I really did it in the worst way possible. I feel terrible,â he said, his voice still impossibly quiet.
âWhat do you mean you feel terrible?â The woman sounded like she was trying not to come off alarmed. âLetâs get upstairs where I can see you properly.â With a tired groan, he let her tug him up so he was seated. Her touches seemed more frantic as she touched his forehead and pressed her ear to his chest.
âI need you to try and stand so I can get you upstairs,â she instructed, âI doubt anyone can hear me shout from down here.â
âYou must be new here. Thatâs okay. I donât have any memories, but I do know that when your master leaves you in the blood magic dungeon, you stay in the blood magic dungeon.â
She muttered a string of curses of mixed Anders and Tevene. âânew here, this is your house, we donât keep slaves, Vasili, mark yourself lucky Anja isnât hereâŚâ
The woman let out a slow exhale. He wondered if she were more irritated or worried, but neither mattered. His vision spun and he wanted to lay back, so he tried to push her off.
âKillian! Gerout!â she shouted, tightening her grip on him. Her voice echoed through the basement with no answer, and then she yelled again, louder this time. He winced and turned his face away from her.
Eventually the sound of armoured boots echoed from the hallway above the stairs.
âMy lady?â a man called down.
âI need your help!â
The clattered down the stone steps and lingered just on the threshold, both of them uncomfortable with blood magic. One of them cleared his throat. âAh, um, is he drunk again, my lady?â
âNo, heâs not drunk, heâs sick look at him!â The lady gestured so emphatically it took both hands, which meant she dropped him, but then she caught him before he hit the stone floor and he felt well and truly sick. âThe marks werenât like this when George- After Adamant. I donât know what it means. Help me get him upstairs.â
He wanted to protest again, but the only sound that came out was a weak moan as the guards lifted him gently off of the stone floor. He wasnât convinced this lady was an actual Lady - just look at her - but he had some faint hope he wasnât about to be tortured.
The light of the upstairs was blinding as they moved through the house, and then up another long flight of stairs.
He finally let out his breath, a tired groan of pain as he was set down on something soft. He opened his eyes enough to confirm that yes, it was a bed, and a nice one. There must have been a dozen pillows and cushions piled behind him.
The woman hastily gave orders out.
ââI donât care what Cassandra said to you last time, I need you to get them both and specifically tell them George is gone and something is very wrong with Vasili,â she urged, âTake Killian with you and donât stop for anyone. And I need you to get us something hot and gentle to eat, two basins of waterââ
âAre you done yelling?â he muttered from the bed.
He was answered with silence as several people ran off.
There was the sound of clothes hitting the floor once the door gently closed, a rustling of fabrics and another door in the room opening and closing. The mattress dipped next to him and she wiped away at his chest with a damp cloth. He cracked open one eye to see her changed, the dirty clothes she wore before piled off to the side.
âExplain to me how you feel,â she said, avoiding his eyes as she cleaned the blood away from him.
âCold, tired, weak⌠Empty.â He tried to sigh, but he could barely manage regular breaths, so he gave his dramatics up for loss. âI imagine the master bled me extensively. Maybe Iâm used to store magical energy with the marks and they drained it all. It doesnât really matter, in the end, so I hope youâre happy when I get punished for this.â
âMy husband the idiot.â She seemed lost in thought as she rinsed the cloth in the bowl near the nightstand and came back to finish. âDo you remember who you are? You donât recognize me, obviously.â The woman seemed hurt as she spoke.
When the servant came back with a tray bearing bread, broth, and candied slices of fruit, the woman beckoned her set the tray on the bed and then dismissed her with a grateful nod. She pulled him upward to sit again before she dipped the bread in the broth and held it out to him.
âStart eating, Vasili. Weâll see if it helps before Teren gets here.â
He refused the food. âSo you really are pushing that whole âyou-are-Vasili bit.â Look, Iâm too old for that kind of master-slave game. Can you just roll me onto the floor or something and we can be done with this?â
âVas.â Her voice cracked this time when she spoke. âIf this is someâŚmelodramatic game youâre playing because you donât want me helping those people anymoreâŚâ
There was a gentle, scratching purr from the floor when a hairless cat leapt onto the bed, stepping over the womanâs lap to nudge his nose on her stomach. She seemed uncomfortable with the motion and nudged him away. The cat moved to him instead. He sniffed him and then pushed its face against his bare chest, chirping.
âFred, off of him, heâs unwell,â she said through gritted teeth, pushing the cat to the side. âVas, please eat. No one here is going to hurt you.â
âLook, I know youâre new here, but-â
The woman shoved the sopping bread in his mouth. âYou are a mage you fuckwit, now fucking eat.â
She seemed to have found some sort of nerve and well - he was going to die anyway wasnât he? Why not enjoy one last meal. He surmised he must be her illicit lover, thatâs why she was so desperate and bad at this. She watched him eat without moving, giving him no chance to pause or ignore the food. She slapped his hand down when he tried to push her off.
âIf youâre so desperate to follow orders youâd better start following mine.â
âRude,â he finally managed to snap out between the force-feedings. When heâd finally had enough that she was satisfied he coughed and sipped some water under his own power. âYou could have mentioned the mage-bit up front. Not that there are no mage slaves, but honestly.â
âI hate you so much,â she muttered, âHow do you feel since youâve eaten?â She glanced at the door, irritation giving way to a flicker of disappointment. When she looked back at him her expression settled at unimpressed once more.â
He was busy petting the cat, Fred?, who was more than happy with the situation, purring and kneading his side. The cat was a little raggedy, with scars and a torn ear, but he was apparently his. âWait, so is my name actually Vasili then? And youâre not just stupid?â
The pointed look she gave the cat was more than a little unsettling. She crossed her arms and he watched her physically bite down on the first comment that came to mind.
âVasili, answer my fucking question or so help me Iâll send one of the staff to fetch Pavus to witness this,â she threatened. He didnât know who Pavus was, but she seemed serious, so he deadpanned her.
âCold and exhausted,â he repeated.
The woman threw her hands up with a howl and left the room for a moment. Vasili, that was not a Tevinter name, but he was pretty pasty and pretty elf-y for a Tevinter, so who knew, looked down at his cat. âIs she always like this?â
Fred purred louder. Vasili took that as assent. He was so busy rewarding his clever cat with more pets that he didnât notice she was back until the woman angrily threw a duvet over both of them. âRude. Fair, but rude.â
âI hate you so much. Just wait until your brother gets here. I am not going to stop any of his mocking.â
Vasili stopped petting Fred long enough to pull the blanket off of his face. âI have a brother?â
âA twin! And heâs a magister, so stop it with this stupid slave nonsense. What did you even do to yourself?â
âIf I knew that, we wouldnât be in this position, would we?â
Her nostrils flared with her next irritated sigh. âWhen you get your memory backâŚâ
Prompt! âIf you canât do it â then Iâll do it. â
Meadquisition. Cut for dark themes including blood magic, talk of death, talk of miscarriage.
Vasili leans against a sturdy bookcase in Saâalleâs office. Itâs old and leaks magic into the air, so saturated is it from generations of Saâalle magic. The magic has a dark feel to it, but Vasili is a blood mage so he doesnât care. Even if he wasnât, the matter at hand is far more important. He sighs. âWell? Whatâs your assessment?â
Saâalle doesnât look up from his grimoire. He has a stack of notes at his right hand with the information from Cassandraâs half and thereâs a page splayed across horizontally with new notes. Eventually he clears his throat, but when he speaks his voice is disturbingly quiet. âIâm afraid Karste may be correct. Iâve healed the damage, but itâs degenerative and recurring.â
âI wonât let her die. I can save her,â Vasili says. His own voice is dark and thereâs an unnatural edge - Georgeâs input.
âBut at what cost? Will she forgive you?â
âI wonât forgive her if she dies!â
Saâalle shakes his head. âIf you channel that much magic, you will die. Your body canât handle it anymore. That ritual will give free reign to whatâs killing you.â
âIf you canât do it â then I have no choice. Iâll do it. The cost is worth it. She is mine and I wonât lose her.â Vasili pants as George gives him control back. He wipes the sweat off of his forehead. âI need her, Saâalle.â
The sound of pages turning is deafening in the small office, but Saâalle is looking for something specific, itâs not an idle motion to busy his hands while he plans what to say. âThere may be a way.â
âAnything. Anything.â
âHer sister will-â
âAnja will do whatever it takes.â
âTake all of the pain for her? Feel every ounce of exhaustion? She will have everything on her body but the baby.â
Vasili feels all of his marks flare at once. âSheâll agree. Willingly or not, she will agree.â
Vasili stood and suffered Karsteâs fussing with his shirt for an entire forty seconds before shaking her hands off. âThatâs enough, woman. You donât know what youâre doing, so I donât know what youâre trying to accomplish. Just let me do it myself.â
Karste growled and grabbed his upper arm, letting her nails dig in through the delicate fabric. âI just want to make you look good.â
Vasili rolled his eyes and fixed his collar. âI already look fabulous, youâre the one that needs work.â
Though it was mostly accurate, Karste still gasped in offense. She released his arm and moved away, but not before he could grab her hip, his fingers digging into the old bruises hidden by her dress. She fought back a moan. âI hate you.â
âI love you, too, wife, now let me finish or pull up your dress.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
âTry to blush,â Vasili murmured into Karsteâs ear.
She snapped her head around and tried to bite his face, but the whole movement was extremely awkward. She was seated in his lap and both of them were wrapped up in his stupidly expensive Tevinter blanket next to the fire in the center of the Inquisition camp. So the result was a great deal of squirming and the blanket bulging oddly here and there as limbs were rearranged.
âThat works, too,â Vasili said, hiding a quiet chuckle in her neck. He pressed his teeth into the bruise on her neck, but without any real pressure. Just a reminder. âThey think weâre fucking.â
âWhat?â Karste asked in Anders. âItâs freezing!â
âWhat did you expect out of these Southerners?â Vasili returned. He sent another pulse of heat into their blanket cocoon. âSqueal a bit. Thatâll really upset them.â
âI absolutely do not-â Karsteâs rant was cut off with a squeak. She hissed angrily. âItâs not twisting their noses if you actually grope me.â
Completely unchided, Vasili just bit her again and continued what he was doing with his hand.
160: â Do you think you can teach me that? â Disaster couple, OG Canon or modern au
âOy, teach me that,â Vasili said. He plopped down inside of Karsteâs personal space, not that that was anything new for him.
Karste stabbed him with her needle and went back to repairing her trousers. Her stitches were quick, even and... She pulled the thread tight and the fabric sealed together perfectly, not revealing the thread at all. She smiled down at her work, before twisting her face into a scowl to aim at her lover. âNo. Youâre never, ever going to sew anything in your life. Iâm not wasting my time.â
âGeorge wants to know.â
âGeorge can pay for his tutelage.â
Vasili stared down at the fire, his lips moving silently as he spoke with the Avarice demon. âGeorge offers three full travel days of discussion of medicinal herbs native to the region now-known as the Anderfels.â
Karste narrowed her eyes down at her needle. The sewing technique was hardly secret or rare, it would be easy for George to find someone else to teach him. But on the other hand, most of the knowledge George had was probably for plants long killed by the Blight.
But they could be found in other areas now... Karste nodded to herself. âFine. I agree.â
âI really wish you hadnât,â Vasili complained.
âThen you shouldnât have made a pact with a demon.â
â donât talk like that. â / â youâll feel better in the morning. â (writer's choice!)
Future/Modern Thedas AU
âYouâll feel better in the morning,â Vasili said looking twice as harried as Karste felt.
She punched him in the shoulder anyway, before putting her hand back on her distended belly. âAs your child seems to delight in kicking me in the kidneys all day and night, thatâs unlikely.â
Vasili threw his hands up. âWell, I tried. You canât complain that I donât comfort you when you rebuff my efforts every time.â
âIâd respect effort; that was clearly the first thing that came to mind,â Karste shot back.
âPardon me for not having a wealth of experience to-â
âOh stop,â Karste snapped. âYouâve milked your mother running off enough.â
Vasili straightened his posture and his voice raised comically in pitch. âExcuse you. That kind of trauma never leaves you.â
Karste rolled her eyes. âFine, I guess Iâll just call your father and let him know weâll take him up on his offer of moving into the Main House.â
âYou wouldnât dare.â
âTry me.â
Vasili narrowed his eyes at her and then sighed dramatically, throwing his arms up again. âFine. Sit.â
Dubious, Karste nevertheless sat on their couch. She wouldnât really move into the Sokolov Main House. For one, Nicolai was insufferable with how desperately he wanted his sonsâ love. For another, it wasnât her home.
âYouâre not allowed to be cross after this,â Vasili said as he placed a hand on her belly.
âWhy would I be-â Karste gasped and knocked his suddenly, impossibly hot hand off of her. âWhat did you do?â She hissed in Anders, shielding her belly protectively.
âMagic, obviously. It settled the baby, didnât it?â
Karste bared her teeth, but privately admitted that, yes, the baby had stopped kicking.
âFather said that woman had the same problem as you when she was pregnant, but since you get on my case if I so much as think about skipping a bloody snack, I didnât think youâd allow it.â Vasili smoothed the front of his shirt.
âYouâre a mage?!â
âObviously.â
âAnd you never thought to mention it?â
Vasili rolled his eyes and pulled a granola bar out of his pocket. He took his sweet time opening it and taking a bite. âI am the scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Sokolov, of course Iâm a mage.â
âWell excuse me, Princess. With how rare magic is, I thought youâd surely have bragged about it by now.â Karste ran her hand across her belly, but it didnât prompt the usual fit of internal wiggling and kicking. âAnd I can just get a heating blanket if thatâs all it takes.â
âDonât be stupid, obviously my child is a mage and wants a stronger connection to the Fade than you have.â
âYou were so close to not being an ass. So close.â
âYou married me. You can only blame yourself at this point.â