#nathaniel.

Lennon was actively trying to avoid walking into the ball, though her attire may of said otherwise, her position on one of the benches far away from all of the commotion in the ballroom is where she planned to spend a majority of her evening. She looked around to see no one as she began digging through her purse for a joint she rolled earlier, placing it between her teeth while she started the next part of her search for her lighter. There was no way she’d be dragging herself into that room sober, if at all, especially with her mother’s wrath lurking. 

blair waldorf   &   nate archibald           edits.  

The weather was tempered; it’d been pleasant these past few weeks. Nathaniel decided—for the second time this week—he’d like to take a longer trip around the outer skirts of Baldur’s Gate, closer to the seaside and the salty zephyrs tickling his cheeks, rather than to beeline for his abode deep within the city’s heart.

As he walked, quite a leisurely pace, he came to a gradual halt. A few moments passed, the cogs of his brain churning: forced into a double-take, he snapped his head to the left—to this clifftop inn. An inn around these parts wasn’t necessarily a shocking happenstance, but what was, was the fact that this inn definitely didn’t sit here approximately two days ago when he took the same dragged-out route to his house. Everything was prim and proper, and alien flora sat about, beautiful and hugging the infrastructure in a way that felt simultaneously pretty and also protective.

The land had once been cleared; swept down. What sat prior was a humble home of a fisher, but, as the cliff began to chip away, it became too dangerous for them and their family to stay—they left some time ago, hoping to set up elsewhere. The land had been up for sale for some months, flirting with a year, before all attempts were naught but sadly scratched away. The cliffside flanks had been lashed down, the maws of the relentless seaside dragging down piece by piece of rock and rubble. What was once a modest home of this fisher and their family, had been decimated to a few, scraggy piles of wood and other mediocre leftovers. Every time Nathaniel walked by it felt like the land got narrower still just by a lick.

Now stood this inn—and if he wasn’t mistaken, it seemed to have reconstructed some footing of this here cliff, extending its chin enough to form something safe and sturdy for the inn to sit upon. Nathaniel stepped closer to it; curiosity piqued.

Humidity blanketed thick upon Baldur’s Gate. Even those who stood amongst the banks of the coast, feeling the rush of seaside breeze tickle their cheeks and toss their hair, were swift to shy away from the sun’s agonising glare. Shade was a luxury, one that many couldn’t afford. Those who stalked the streets, by burden of coin or lack thereof, would find dew-like sweat beading upon skin. Handkerchiefs, usually tucked away neatly upon breast or pocket, instead primed betwixt damp fingers and curled fist, anticipating the next dribble of sweat to rain down.

As day crawled towards eventide with all the enthusiasm of a caterpillar, groups sought the solace of shadows cast by the vast architectures strewn up and down narrow street flanks. One particular ragtag crowded, flush, against the building wall, fanning themselves in a pitiful attempt to rend the warmth sunder. It did little to relieve the heat.

“… Ah’heard it tastes weird. Does it?”

“Taste? No taste to it really, but yeah, it’s got a weird texture, it does. But: the results are worth every coin. That guy up at Mystique’s sure knows what he’s doing. I mean, reliving memories? With a little vial? Come on.”

“Hey, if you asked me to put two plants together and make magic on a plate, you can bet your ass when you got that plate, it’d just be a mush of green!” A jab of elbow. “What he makes looks like if y’shit the sun itself!”

Laughter, happy and buoyant, floated between them.

“Ah’ought to pay him another visit, then. Miss m’daughter, ah’do. So very, very much.”

“Mystique’s is where you gotta be then, mate. Now, come on, I think I see some Flaming Fists up near that corner, let’s give them a miss before we ‘look at ‘em wrong’ or some shit.”

Another bout of laughter, a slap on the back, and away they went.