#mystraguideme

Gale turns, forced to close the book for the proximity between them. "You know," His carved brow raises as his head tips down to look at her. "That's a rather tall task, putting a Wizard's mind at ease. It's rather like a labyrinth up there, with more than a few minotaurs of its own. It wouldn't be very kind of me to reject your offer of gratitude." A smile, charming upon his dimples. "What did you have in mind?"

the drow is tempted to release the ugly snort which threatens to bubble from her throat at his initial response, the look on his mien absolutely priceless. with a long and deep breath, however, it heels to an annoyed sigh.

her hands clasp back at her sides as she peers up at the taller human, though soon to rise again to twirl him around slowly so that his back faces her.

@mystraguideme

And Roland snorts, nursing a steaming cup of gifted coffee in this early, twittering Morning; his eyes haphazard with low-hanging bags of tireless, sleepless Nights.

"Thus 'twards the entirety of a present Topic," comments he, as he huddles upon a log and remains in that simplistic of photogenic fabrics: his trousers and embroidered tunic, unbecoming of shoework and comforted by his hanging satchel. He blows lightly upon the steam of his coffee, and sups at it gently. "What is thine favor? Mysticisms of the beguiling?" inquires he. "Esoteric Study of the Universal Mind? Biology of the scattered, ecological Spheres?"

Also, at some point of dnd lore Mystra get so done with all these shenanigans of people wanting power, betraying her, etc, she pretty much GIVE UP her godhood.

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     𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝘀𝘁 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝗿𝘁𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝗿𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝘄𝐚𝗿𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐛𝘀, 𝘀𝐡𝐞 𝘀𝐢𝐠𝐡𝘀 𝐢𝐧 𝗿𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟.     The prior hint of anxiety washed away as the wizard shows his gratitude, compliments do not go unnoticed; Babette bows her head, smiling from cheek to cheek.

     ❝ Oh, it was nothing, really  —   . . . ❞

. . .

     . . .

          . . . But what was he doing there   ?

Pale red orbs blankly stare as Gale uses the handcrafted bookmark to tie his hair into a ponytail. Looking from side to side, seeing if a prank is made on her, the seamstress' blinks find their place back at the show at hand. Would it be rude to . . . tell him   ?

Sooner or later, second thoughts rush through the hexblood's head. They did look like hair ties. How foolish to assume he would get it on the first attempt.     ❝ Uhm . . . Well, aaactually, those aren't hair ties . . . ❞    Her voice quivers silently, offering a sorry smile to go along with the awkwardness of the situation.     ❝ You sure look good with them, though . . . If it helps   ? ❞

     ❝ You can use them however you feel like. I initially thought of them as some sort of bookmarks. I am afraid they wouldn't hold good enough for reliable hair ties. Not stretchy enough . . . ❞     The last part is murmured to herself. The woman wants to demonstrate, but instead of just taking one of his books, she mimics with two spread out fingers, closing one marker between them, similar to how you would use it with a tome or a journal.

" Are you sure that's wise? " Aksel looked to the wizard suspiciously, almost if he was waiting for the punch line to a joke. He rarely trusted his own judgement, even after years of only ever having himself for real company. Someone taking his lead, trusting his judgement in a scenario outside of his shop walls and his trade was not the norm for him - he'd spent the majority of his life a shadow, being talked down to and having every call he'd made judged.

They still barely knew one another, maybe Gale was yet to change his mind or think it unwise to trust his judgement, but he hoped that wouldn't be the case. No matter how terrible this situation he hoped there was a chance for friendship at least. " - okay, we rest and we'll get moving in the morning. If we have not turned yet I doubt it will happen over night. " Maybe he'd end up eating his words. " Any good at cooking? "

Coming back to camp was always pretty rough for Rein. Usually he was covered in blood from head to toe and battered up. Such was the nature of being on a team and being the most physically powerful. His job was to run in front and slice until there was nothing left to slice. He knew that. Loved it, really. Enemies tended to hit him harder and spare the rest of his team. He was happy to be a protector.

This evening, as the sun began to set, he was able to bathe, happy to be near a body of clean water. He cleaned axe, put on some new clothes and returned to the fire going. This usually meant that Gale was ready to cook. And boy was he starved.

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      𝐖𝐢𝘁𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝘄 𝘁𝐡𝘂𝐝, 𝗕𝐚𝐛𝐞𝘁𝘁𝐞 𝘀𝐞𝐚𝘁𝘀 𝐡𝐞𝗿𝘀𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝘄𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝘁𝐨 𝐚 𝘀𝐞𝐚𝘁𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝘄 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝗿 𝐡𝐢𝘀 𝘁𝐞𝐧𝘁.      Quite ready to spill some tea, this one. Not acknowledging the honor of getting to talk to the goddess herself, Babette only held a grudge against the passive-aggressive little remark Mystra offered her.

     ❝ She teased me about turning into a hag eventually. The audacity. I was so nice to her. You are her chosen, right   ?   Is she always like this   ? ❞     Pouting, huffing, the seamstress crossed her arms over her chest. Round, angry orbs search for any hint of compassion the wizard might be sharing. 

to rip the wizard's flesh from bone and submerge in his blood tingles at her insides; the thought pure ecstasy. but she does not wish to burn the bridges of her companion's trust too soon, quick to shake the feeling away with a more accustomed grimace when her eyes lock onto his.