#merdeva

@merdeva's words are a velvety whisper, spoken so close that their companions spread around the temple would never hear — this was just for celeste, just between the two of them. they are a soft reminder but a solid promise, steeling her shaking limbs and sealing the crack that ran through her heart. the two halves would never be fused again, but... celeste wasn't sure she wanted them to be.

to fully heal would be to take a step backward. moving back into selûne's embrace, returning to her former path, as if none of it had ever happened. but it had. selûne had abandoned her for her failure, left her hallow and broken. the scars she gained in the aftermath were proof of her survival.

turning her gaze from the statue of her former goddess, she looked into the eyes intently watching her now. "nor i, you." she had made her own promises, a new oath, and she intended to follow it as fervently as she had the former. maybe more so, in some ways, if the heat rushing through her was any indication of the emotion that the dark aasimar could draw from her.

the first thing she becomes aware of is the light of the sun on her face. there is an edge to it, not powerful enough to burn but too warm to be comfortable, urging her to open her eyes, to move away... and when she does, nothing of her surroundings are familiar to her. moments come flashing back as she groans awake, pushing herself up and taking in the debris of the crashed ship that she had woken up on before.

when was that? how long had it been? and further more... what else was she forgetting? her missing memories seemed to allude her still, a frustration that came only second to the the more present discomforts of her aching limbs and the sun still shining down on her face.

pushing to her feet, she needn't wander far to find a shadow to rest in, near collapsing against the base of the rocky overhang that became her new sanctuary for the moment. she just needed to gather herself, to regain some semblance of control over herself again. no matter how she tried, she could remember nothing before awaking on the nautiloid and steering herself and the other strangers aboard to presumed safety... if that was what this unfamiliar beach was.

her thoughts were shattered by the sound of approaching steps, drawing her attention away from the blood dried on her hands to find one of those strangers coming into view. on the ship, they had all been rather unwillingly allied, but she would take no chances out here in the open. she rose to her feet once more, feeling for the dagger at her waist but not unsheathing it. not just yet.

her fingers ran through the darkened streaks of hair falling over her eyes, brushing them back behind an ear for an unobscured view of the fire as she added another stick, stoking the flames idly. it wasn't even close to dying, but she found that lately she needed her hands in motion. a lack of action would only lead to a dark turn in her mind, and that wouldn't do. not when she was alone on watch.

alone... until she wasn't.

the familiar presence approaching from behind stilled her for a heartbeat, every muscle tensing to avoid turning to watch inara as she joined the circle of bedding around the fire. the warmth in and around celeste seemed to intensify, but she clamped down on those thoughts as well. the last thing she needed was an added complication. her life had spiraled down far enough as it was.

the thought alone sent a rush of guilt and shame flowing through her, breaking past the walls she had been steadily holding up against the tide for days now. her own failures desired to swallow her whole... but for the first time, she recognized that blame wasn't her's alone. looking up, her eyes connected with inara's across the flames, and for the first time in days, celeste spoke to someone else.

Her voice dances through the silence and prickles beneath his skin. He doesn’t need to look up from his book to know exactly who it is: the child of Bhaal, death’s shadow looming up where his guard is lowest. He ignores the uncomfortable lurch of his stomach—the feeling of the bottom dropping out from beneath him as the safety he took for granted goes up in smoke. It’s to be expected with Bhaalspawn; SURPRISE is what they do best.

The only sign of his annoyance is a clipped sigh through his nose.

“By all means, make yourself comfortable.” The words simmer with sarcasm as he reaches for a nearby quill to scribble a note in the margin. The more books he reads, the more he finds their authors in desperate need of correction. “Dare I ask if my household staff remains intact?”

Finally he looks up at her, laying the book aside. She appears perfectly at ease in his bedroom; Selûne's light filters through the window, catching on the long lines of her wings and the curves of her body. There’s a deceptive SOFTNESS to her like this—she's as smooth and cold as marble, as sharp as cut glass. Were it not for the bits of flesh and bone she wears like fine silks, he would struggle to reconcile the creature before him with the mutilated trail of bodies left in her wake.

She’s dangerous. And that’s exactly what makes her so valuable.

Gortash stands, closing the distance between them. It was a power play to come here: to trespass upon the heart of his sanctuary, to demonstrate in unequivocal terms that there will be no safe harbor from her. He’s impressed, but he won’t be cowed. He’s clothed in relatively simple attire—a shirt of fine black silk, plain trousers—but there’s a powerful CONFIDENCE to his stride that remains undiminished by the circumstances.