#nirvana bg3

It had been hard enough being isolated up in Lorroakan's tower under his keen watch. But doing so without Nirvana seemed to ache the Tiefling even more.

She had resigned into her room. The one passing comment he ever got was a flighty, fearful thing. “I just don't want to cause you any more trouble.”

It was only that, and then she was off. Gone in a rush, clearly afraid to be seen. After that interaction, seeing her was sparse. She mostly kept to her own bedchambers, save for slow walks down empty would-be-beautiful halls and into Lorroakan's office.

When Rolan caught sight of her, his eyes nearly watered from the surprise. His face would have gone ten shades redder if it could. Whatever she was wearing was… well, it was beautiful but obscene. He felt filthy for looking at her. It covered nothing. Nirvana had been a shamelessly flirty woman, wearing some skimpy bardic outfits before, and sure, he'd stolen a glance or two where he shouldn't. But this— by the gods, he knew he shouldn't even be seeing this. Barely threads!

Thin black fabric wrapped her hips like a harness with a loop for the tail. He lost sight of the fabric as it disappeared between her asscheeks, fully azure and on display. Barely a stitch covered her front, her most private area. A small triangle of fabric kept her from the rest of the world. And on top, the same. Straps of black fabric and chains adorned her chest, scarcely covering her nipples. Rolan never considered himself a prude, but damn it all, he blushed and turned away. It felt like too much to see. Too much skin, far too intimate of a thing to view. Hells— did she—? Were those pierced nipples?

Though, the implications of where she was headed did not sit well with him.

He never saw her leave the bedroom, though the next day, her eyes looked hollow. Sleepless. Still in the same garments as before, but she wrapped a blanket around herself to return to her room. She felt too much shame to look at him, though.

Rolan was back to studying. Poring over another book of tomes. He was determined to commit it to memory this time, never to give Lorroakan the upper hand. There was a knock at the open door, though he knew there would be no point in rejecting the visitor anyway. The knock was an alert, not a question. The figure stepped in, exactly who he had expected. Lorroakan.

“Enough reading, boy.” He commanded. “I have a new test for you today.”

“Yes, Master Lorroakan,” Rolan answered, sitting up straight just as he had been instructed.

“Today, I shall test your concentration. You must remain focused on your spell. Once you conjure it, I expect you to hold on to it for the duration. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Master Lorroakan.”

“Good. Conjure for me, Cloud of Daggers, right there.” He pointed, and Rolan focused on an empty area that would not be damaged.

It was a simple spell. He had grown quite good at this one. In fact, he had even learned a few tricks to make it more potent, more powerful. But he never showed Lorroakan his progress. The risk felt too severe for no reward.

The daggers whisked back and forth in a vortex as Rolan easily maintained his concentration, and that was when Lorroakan whistled once. A hesitated pause filled the air, only the sound of blades whirring, and then Nirvana stepped into the room.

Ah. Concentration.

Nirvana looked like she was fighting every urge to cover herself. Gone was any amount of confidence she'd have surely had if it was her choice to wear this. Hells, she'd probably have loved to have Rolan's eyes all over her in this. But now, she just stood there, her back against the wall, trying to twist her legs together just enough that he couldn't see past them. Almost stark naked in front of him. He was painfully distracted now.

The cloud of daggers never faltered, simple as the spell was, and again, Rolan told himself he was not prudish by nature, but there was a gold chain that fell just so between Nirvana's breasts and— gods dammit! He should not be thinking this. Not even looking at her!

Her tail was wrapped around her waist, affording her some semblance of cover over her privates. But Rolan did not envy her.

“I bet that you wish to touch her, boy.” Lorroakan's voice cut through any fantasy that may have stirred in Rolan's head— not that any were stirring in the first place— and Rolan ensured his vision stayed only on the sight of the spinning daggers.

“And she wishes for you to touch her,” he continued. A hand grazed Nirvana's back, and she shivered away from it. A grimace lined her face as she bit back an urge to verbally lash him, lest Rolan blame her damned mouth again.

“She thinks so highly of you. It's why she stays. Every fantasy she has involves you in some way.”

Nirvana's face flooded red, and she looked ready to cry. It was one thing that Rolan knew she had a crush on him, that had been pretty obvious from day one. And surely he could connect the dots that she would have fantasized about taking him to bed. But Lorroakan seeing it? Knowing it? And telling Rolan? She felt her throat tighten, her eyes sting with tears.

Rolan's eyes betrayed him again. He glanced from the cloud of daggers over to Nirvana. He felt sick seeing her gleeful face look so downtrodden. She usually looked at him with nothing but that annoyingly lovestruck look in her eyes, but this was not the Nirvana he had come to know and— and tolerate. Tolerate, yes, that's what… he was feeling. Toleration, nothing more.

But the look on her face had him understanding why she had screamed out indignantly when he was being beaten.

The spell flickered just a moment, and Lorroakan noticed.

“Ah-ah, your concentration, boy. Don't let your mind wander elsewhere.”

Rolan tore his eyes from Nirvana again and set his jaw. Fuming. The cloud of daggers spun aimlessly. He could still see her from the corner of his eye.

“Good,” Lorroakan murmured, his voice low and dangerous. He placed his hand on Nirvana's lower back, just above the tail. “Such… interesting ridges across the body. Is it cartilage? I've always wondered. Ghastly thing, isn't it?” He idly traced along her tail, exploring it. “These extra bits of scaly flesh… interesting to see it gathered along the knees. Along the shoulders… across the chest…”

The more he spoke, the more Lorroakan's hand wandered. Up Nirvana's back, following the line of her spine so he could touch every ridge across her body. She could not hide the shiver that crossed her body, but it was not one she wanted. Rolan was staring at her from the corner of his eye, trying not to look. His eyes were flashing dangerously. He was enraged, and couldn't do a damned thing about it.

At that moment, Nirvana did the only thing she could. She hated it, hated those fucking tadpoles in her brain, she hated the very thought of it, of using them, of relying on the very thing she was fighting against. But she had to try. She pleaded into the tadpole, not even certain if her pleas would reach her camp.

Please… Lorroakan is dangerous. I need help. Fuck it, not even me, I don’t care about me. Get Rolan out of here.

She couldn't close her eyes but she hoped beyond all hope that someone could hear her. She knew that her friends knew she was kept here like Lorroakan’s little pet, and that he was after Dame Aylin, but the sooner this was solved, the better. Rolan could do what he was born to do. To be a better wizard than Lorroakan ever could be.

Warmth against her caused her whole body to jolt. Something wet against her neck. That fucker. Oh by the gods that fucker LICKED her. She felt his tongue brush her neck as the grip on her waist grew tighter, and she finally pushed him.

“What the hells!” She gasped, wiping her neck where his tongue had traced one of the ridges.

Lorroakan gagged and wiped his own mouth.

“Oh by the gods! That was vile! Those ridges really are everywhere, aren't they? And they feel just as sickening as I expected!” He laughed like he was disgusted but intrigued. A man who was disturbed by her and yet kept her trapped out of keen interest. He hated the both of them, hated that they were Tieflings, and that Rolan was smart, and that she was mouthy. “Come back, girl, I simply must do that again,” he said, like it was amusing. Like it was something for him to taste and enjoy and get a good laugh from.

“Never.” She bit back.

The sound of a slap to her face echoed through the entire room, and that hard sound was enough to break Rolan's concentration again. The daggers vanished as the spell snapped away.

“What did you just say to me?” Lorroakan's voice lost all form of playfulness, all curiosity. He was deep and full of rage now. With one swoop, a cacophony erupted around her as many tentacled arms sprang from the floor, grabbing Nirvana around her arms, her legs, her hips, even around her throat. As she tried to pull away from the warm, pulsing grip, she was pushed forward into the desk, feeling Lorroakan damn near slam her head into the wooden desk in front of Rolan.

“Repeat what you just said.”

“Never.” Nirvana repeated, but her heart was alight with fear, pounding against her ribs like a rabbit caught in a snare, like she was looking up at the fox.

“Boy. Let this serve as a lesson for what happens with disobedience.” He snapped. “Cast your spell again. Center it here.” He pointed to Nirvana.

“Sir?” He repeated. Rolan's voice sounded hoarse, like he hardly even spoke anymore.

“Your spell, boy. Need I repeat myself? Cloud of daggers. Center it here. If I repeat myself again, you will receive a beating, do I make myself clear?”

“Master Lorroakan, I—”

“You wish to focus on this girl too much, boy. She keeps your attention away from your spellwork. Well, if you want to stare at her, be my guest. Stare all you'd like. Focus every ounce of energy you have onto this wretched bard. And. Cast. Your. Spell. Now.”

Rolan's eyes jumped to Nirvana, looking positively pathetic against the table. Stripped of her dignity, her clothes— It was the first time Rolan had ever seen such a look on her face before. Defeat. The very same woman who chased him through the Shadowlands. Who infiltrated Moonrise Towers on a good-natured whim. Who stumbled through Last Light, bleeding out, just to see him in case she died. Who, despite having a parasite in her brain, still took the time to put others first. Who saved his family time and time and time and time again.

“It's alright, Rolan.” She looked up at him, face pressed against the wood of the desk, gritting her teeth. Tears poured from her eyes. “Do it. Just… do it.” She pleaded. She had accepted this long ago. She would be used against him. She breathed in deeply, ready for the pain. “I… I love you.”

Rolan's heart thumped against his chest. There had to be a way out of this. He was clever. He was very clever. There had to be something he could do. Fuck. Fuck! This could have been so much easier if he suffered the beating himself, but inflicting it? His heart ached. He could not do this. Fuck!

Think, Rolan! Think!

Suddenly, he understood Nirvana's recklessness.

“Mactē Virtutē,” Rolan whispered, giving Nirvana an invisible set of Mage Armor. His own conjuration, an improved version of Mage Armor that he had invented himself. He figured it out almost easily, no thanks to Lorroakan.

He then took a wide step back, prayed to whatever gods may be left to listen to him, and aimed his concentration right on Lorroakan himself.

“Ira etc dolor!” Rolan shouted, summoning a frenzy of daggers around his Master. The room was small, and their proximity close, but it was the best he could do for the circumstances.

The daggers exploded around Lorroakan, slicing with the sounds of wisping and clashing. Several daggers still managed to slice Nirvana on the leg, just on the outside edge of the conjuration, but with the frenzy of blades centered on Lorroakan, it was enough to break his concentration on the tentacles restraining her, and Nirvana instantly rolled from the desk to the floor, anything to get away from the danger.

Lorroakan raged in fury, able to dispel Rolan's spell all too easily, but his prize had gotten away. Nirvana was behind Rolan now, and the apprentice stood with one arm out to protect her, letting the bard hold his robes behind him. His left arm barricaded her, his right ready to cast again. Even his tail lashed violently, one more thing keeping Lorroakan away from Nirvana. Nirvana covered herself, blood seeping and trickling down her bare legs, dripping to the floor.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” Lorroakan fumed. “HOW IN THE BLOODY HELLS DARE YOU ATTACK ME?”

Nirvana and Rolan both stepped back, not letting him approach.

“You will be lucky to have any recognizable features on your face!” Lorroakan seethed, taking his staff and cracking Rolan hard across the jaw with it. Rolan tried to block it with his arm, but Lorroakan was faster when he was angry. Down came the staff again, and Rolan spit blood to the floor, two hard strikes right to the face. He fell to his knees. Nirvana screamed, and Lorroakan silenced her with one sweep of his hand. She could scream all she wanted. He would not hear her. Lorroakan gripped Rolan by a fistful of hair, picking his head from the floor, showing Nirvana his bloody mouth and swollen eyes. An utterly sickening sight.

The staff cracked against Rolan's back, and the Tiefling grunted with pain, a weak and restrained cry escaping his lips, anything to keep from moving too much. He expected this. He expected the beating he would receive from disobeying. Lorroakan took great pleasure in it as well, now the most disheveled and unhinged he had ever managed to look in front of them. Another dull thump of his staff to the back of Rolan's shoulders, then the back of his head, and finally, he kicked Rolan's hand hard, stomping his fingers into the floor.

Rolan stayed where he was, clutching his stomach and wheezing when Lorroakan finally decided enough was enough. He left the two of them where they were, huffing as he stormed out to go and fix himself up, vain as he was.

Nirvana crawled to Rolan again, both bloody in their own ways. Humiliated, broken, seething, in pain.

“Te Curo,” Nirvana choked out, placing her hand on Rolan's back. It wasn't much, but it was something. And she'd do it as many times as she needed to. The daggers had sliced through the tiny fabric holding her clothes on. She had to hold her top to her breasts with one hand. She was trembling.

Rolan sat up slowly, wincing with the pain of his fresh wounds, and slowly, timidly, quietly, he slid his wizard robes from his shoulder. He wrapped them gently around Nirvana's shoulders, fastening them in front of her, giving her any small amount of dignity he could afford her. She was covered, no longer exposed and humiliated. And only then did he softly wrap his arms around her.

Nirvana had no choice but to break down and sob.

His hands were deliberate, only touching her shoulders or her back where she was covered. Her face pressed into his shoulder, embracing him as she broke down completely in front of him.

“Shh…” he murmured, voice strained. “Shhh… it's alright. I've got you.”

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…”

“I know. Shh, I've got you. I know.”

“I'm so sorry, Rolan.”

“We will get out of this. I promise. Come, with me.”

He slowly got to his knees, bringing Nirvana along with him. They'd go to his bedchambers tonight. They could keep watch with each other. They wrapped around each other, Nirvana limping because of the nicks across her thighs, and Rolan taking it slow, head throbbing, body aching. They collapsed into his bed the way Nirvana had always dreamed, but not like this.

She was clutching his clothes around her, cold and horrified, still feeling the hot wetness of Lorroakan's tongue invading her neck, those times she was made to kiss him, the creepy way his hands explored her body like she was a spectacle. She couldn't cover herself enough. It was a filthy feeling, being so tenderly cared for by Rolan after she had been so violated and tormented in front of him.

Rolan took one of his nightshirts from a trunk in his room and handed it to her without a word. Neither of them knew what to say. The shirt was a deep red cotton and it was something that came down to cover her thighs. It smelled so very distinctly Rolan, in which she meant it smelled like the best wine, and fire, and magic. Innately like magic. She felt it every time she hugged him, like magic properties of the Weave were with him at all times. He was smart. He was so clever. He didn't even need Lorroakan to be so powerful. She slid the clothing over her head and finally relaxed her body, not feeling like a lady of the night, only fit to be at Sharess’ Caress.

Nirvana knelt next to a bucket of water, dipping a rag inside and wringing it out, sitting on the bed across from Rolan to gently clean off his face. She dabbed the rag against his split lip, and Rolan hissed. They didn't speak. Nobody had the words, for once. He winced, but allowed her to continue cleaning him up, wiping the blood from his face, applying a cool reprieve from the pain.

She whispered the incantation for Healing Word more times than she could count, until she was exhausted, but he never looked any better than he started. She only hoped that she was actually doing something meaningful. The swelling never fully went down, the bruises never faded, but the magic was at work. She had to trust that.

Properly cleaned and dressed, the moment felt intimate in a way that Rolan was unfamiliar with. Like it or not, the two of them shared a bond now. A life-saving bond. It was like he was afraid to touch her, afraid to do something to break any threads of resolve she still had. They were so close to each other now. Her hand still delicate on his cheek— why? He had been nothing but a pompous prick to her since they had met. Sarcastic, snappy, better than everyone else— what did she possibly still have to like about him anyway?

He found her eyes again, the milky white one flitting from his wounds to the rag until he finally stopped her from cleaning him, simply putting a dusty-red hand atop hers to still her. Understanding. There was nothing more they could do.

He felt a pull to embrace her, and he didn't fight it. For once, he didn't fight it. Many other times, perhaps he would have. He held the back of her head gently in his palm, and he guided her against his chest, his other arm caressing around her back. Neither of them moved. She simply leaned into his embrace, arms locking around his back and gently rubbing his shoulders as she silently shook with sobs into his chest. Her tail curled around his leg, wrapping up it and resting around his knee, so delicate of a touch.

They fell asleep like that, him pulling her to a laying position against him, on his side so he wouldn't irritate his own wounds. He pressed one gentle kiss to the top of her head after she finally cried herself to sleep.

Nirvana held on until Last Light. It was all she could do to see the mission through. Shadowheart knelt to the ground beside her, holding rags against her wounds. She was a Cleric, and a damn good one at that, but Nirvana needed more help than just a healing potion could give her. There was serious internal damage there, not to mention the elephant in the room that her horn had been cracked in two.

All Shadowheart could really do was to hold pressure on the wounds until they pulled up to the docks.

Two Flaming Fist soldiers saw them coming, and ran to the edge of the dock to throw them their ropes. “This way!” One called as they sailed beneath the moonlight dome.

“We need help!” Shadowheart yelled to them, immediately alerting one to dash off for the help requested. By the time the ship was tied off, several were around them, arms outstretched to help the injured from the ship. Strong arms of a Flaming Fist Fighter picked up Nirvana, easing her over the gap.

“I can… do it.” She breathed in sharp gasps. She stood with a wobble. “I have to… see Rolan.”

“I'll hand it to her,” Karlach nudged Shadowheart with an almost-smile as she offered a hand to one of the prisoners. “She's got quite the dedication.”

Nirvana limped up the steps of the Last Light docks, hugging to the wall as every move made her wounds weep. Catching her reflection, she saw nothing but blood-soaked hair and that nasty broken horn. Jagged, imperfect, just like her two incorrect eyes. Everything about it was wrong.

But still, she persisted. She entered Last Light just in time to hear Rolan chewing out Cal and Lia for being in such danger.

“I thought you were dead, you ass! Both of you—!” Rolan was raising his voice, clearly a man filled with worry, fear, regret, and relief, all at the same time. The words died in his throat when his eyes caught the bloodied figure at the door. One horned and holding herself up.

“Nirvana—?”

“Rolan, I—” she began to speak, only to tumble forward. Faster than he even knew he could react, the wizard strode forward with his arms out to catch her, his arms around her back to keep her from striking her head against the bar.

The bard winced and hissed when his fingers touched her wounds, and he quickly moved his hands.

“What happened to you?” He asked, voice betraying him as he sounded sick with worry.

“I… got out...” She said, a weak smile crossing her face. She was being held by Rolan, so the pain didn't matter. She gulped hard from the effort. “Wanted to… Say hello…” she breathed quietly, her hand shakily holding his shoulder.

Her legs began to fail her, and he supported her, even bracing her with his legs for a better stance. As she slipped, a few Harpers rushed over, ready to lift her. A few stronger fighters who were more capable of picking someone up approached to relieve him, but he held her tighter.

“Dont touch her.” He said, a growl to his voice. “I've got her.” He had to do this. If he couldn't do this one thing, it was all for nothing. She'd carried him, metaphorically, this entire time. He could carry her now. They're even.

Rolan picked her up all the way, his arm around her back making her squirm in discomfort, and his other arm hooking under her knees as he rushed her into the room where all of the Flaming Fists were gathered. She was cradled in his embrace, her head rolled against his shoulder. Her arms looped around his neck to try and help.

He placed her onto one of the beds so she could heal properly, but she didn't let him leave so easily. Her tail wrapped around his leg as he looked down at her, and she smiled up at him. Such a pained smile that it made Rolan's heart ache.

“I'm… bleeding on you…” she murmured, noticing the blood staining his robes.

“I don't care about that!” He snapped, and then softened his tone slightly. Damn bard, caring more about the blood on his robes than the blood she was losing at an alarming rate.

“You did well,” he said. “You need to rest now. Let them take care of you.”

Nirvana blinked a few times, semi-conscious. “You never responded to what I said in the shadows,” she slurred deliriously. “I love you… Rolan…,”

But she was unconscious before she could hear his answer.

Rolan clenched his fist and then released it, slowly turning to walk away, bristling with worry as all he could do was leave her with the healers now. He paused at the door, gripping it tightly, giving one final glance over his shoulder at her weak body, and then went right back to his place at the bar he'd come to know.

***

While the bard recovered, her companions surrounded her. She was not beyond help, though the damage was severe. With talented Harpers and Flaming Fists, and a few alchemical solutions, they had nursed Nirvana back to passable health. Her horn was very tentatively reattached, held together with bandages and magic in the hopes that it could be salvaged, though it was unsteady. It was very likely she would end up with several body scars from her stab wounds, and most unfortunately of all, the lyre was entirely beyond repair. Even the best mending magic wouldn't have been able to save the shattered splinters.

She slept for the entire day, which was a relief, as she slept through most of the pain of it. By the time she woke, she was given several healing potions and had been patched up. Granted, their access to a proper, full healer would be limited here, but the process was simply slower, not stopped completely.

Shadowheart stayed by her bedside nearly the entire time. They'd become close, and Shadowheart was there to ease some of the pain of her wounds whenever things became a bit unbearable.

The others switched out spots between camp and Last Light, keeping watch over each other and Nirvana when they could. Even Lae'zel stood at the edge of her bed, clasping her hands in front of her. It surprised Shadowheart to see that the Githyanki showed some actual concern instead of indifference.

Nirvana was not conscious of it, but it never once slipped the notice of her companions that Rolan sat in a chair across from her bed with heavy eyes, watching her while simultaneously trying to look like he was not in there for that exact reason. His tail would twitch stiffly with worry, and he carried that bottle of Arabellan Dry with him like it was attached to his hand. He never said much when he was there, never paused by the bed to speak to her sleeping form. But he hovered nearby just to be certain. It wasn't uncommon for him to wander into the room, stand across from her bed, and then walk back out. Shadowheart began to wonder if he was constantly checking to make sure she was alive. She was almost ready to make a betting pool when he came in.

Nirvana woke up, and nobody knew exactly how many hours or days she had been out. Time was difficult to track, but they had switched off sleeping at least twice, so it was an estimated two days before she finally stirred.

“Nnmm…” Nirvana groaned, and her tiny noise of discomfort immediately snapped the attention of many people in the room. Including Rolan, who had been staring at the fire unblinking for several minutes, lost in thought. It seemed to pull his attention instantly.

“Hey… You're back!” Shadowheart smiled in relief as she noticed Nirvana slowly open her eyes. She chuckled softly and held her hand. It had been Gale's turn to visit, and his face spread into an encouraging smile from the other seat.

“Back in the land of the living at last!” Gale smiled. “You had us all worried.”

Nirvana looked around. She was confused now, unfamiliar with her surroundings. “Did we do it?” She mumbled. “Did we get everybody out?”

“We did.” Shadowheart reassured her. “We're back at Last Light, and everyone is with us.” Well. Not everyone. But Nirvana didn't need to worry herself with Mol and Zevlor just yet.

Her eyes finally drifted past Shadowheart to the rest of the room. Her gaze landed upon Rolan, standing near her bed, and the brightest, sweetest smile beamed across her face. Her worry lines softened, the tension fell, and the bard lit up. Wyll, Gale and Shadowheart had seen it coming a mile away, and kept quiet about it, merely exchanging a look.

“Rolan!”

Immediately, Rolan's shoulders stiffened, like he had something to prove by being there. Like the Harpers and the Fists alike hadn't watched him walk in and out with concern for two days straight. His facade was back, the grumpy, aloof wizard. And Nirvana saw right through it every time. In what was meant to look above it all just made the wizard look terribly worried. His brows were knitted together no matter how much he tried to hide it.

“It's good to see you, Nirvana.” He responded softly, sitting down on the bed just across from her. She smiled at him like he was the first sunlight she'd seen in the Shadow Lands.

Rolan's tail flicked behind him— the traitorous thing.

“You're looking… much better.” He said, worry betraying his face. “You've certainly got more color to your cheeks.” He gestured vaguely. He forced a bit of a smile and looked down. Nirvana's body was mostly bandages. Bruises all about her eyes. “You look… much healthier.”

There was a pause in his words. A slight hitch of his voice as the man who always had something to say— finally didn't. No sarcastic quip, but the eyes of a man who wouldn't admit he felt guilty about all of this. And yet there was adoration in her eyes as she looked up at him. She was overjoyed he could be one of the first faces she saw upon waking. Memories of the fight may be fuzzy in her mind, but she still felt fluttery in her chest looking at Rolan.

“I, um— I wanted to say thank you. Cal and Lia wouldn't be here if it wasn't for— your assistance. I really do mean that. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you. And I'm sorry I lashed out at you, both drunkenly and otherwise.” His words were calm. Genuine. Like he had been mulling them over and rehearsing them. Worried that her last impression of him was going to be that ill-tempered man who didn't appreciate the help he was given. But that proved not to be the case.

“I couldn't imagine doing anything else.” She admitted. “I help friends and people I love. You don't have to apologize for being in a bad way.”

“No… I do. It was unfair to treat you that way.” Rolan held himself accountable, nodding slowly as he did something he rarely had to: he apologized for being wrong.

“Well… you can come and make it up to me now~” She sat herself up slightly, now turning to face the wizard, a sly gleam in her eyes. Rolan, to his own dismay, felt his cheeks flush with color. He tried to play stupid.

“Name a price. I'll give you what gold I can.”

“You know, back at the Grove party, you didn't kiss me because I was too drunk. Well, this is probably the most sober I've been in a while… soooo~”

Heat flooded all the way through Rolan's cheeks and neck, up to his ears. At the doorway, Cal and Lia watched him, giggling. He had never wished more that they would leave him be.

“Kiss, Rolan?”

“You're so insufferable,” Rolan grumbled, looking away, even more red in the face than his usual dusty tone.

“Maybe,” she giggled softly. There was nowhere for Rolan to look that he wasn't met with knowing pairs of eyes. Rolan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

“Fine.”

Immediately, Nirvana's face broke into the biggest, blushing smile anyone in the room had ever seen. She looked downright giddy for a woman whose body was mostly covered in bandages.

“REALLY?!” She squealed, face flushed with dark blush, and her tail wagging behind her against the bed.

“Don't push it.”

Rolan shifted to the bed right beside her, and he leaned down. He had her chin with one hand, turning her face away from him. He held her still, so she could not pull some sly trick by turning her head to catch his lips— not that she'd have betrayed his trust like that anyway— and he pressed one gentle, light kiss against her cheek. It lasted all of two seconds at most, but Nirvana's skin burned like hellfire from the very place his lips had touched her. She clasped her cheek with utter delight and felt weak all over again.

She squealed with joy, a complete giddy and girlish moment, while Cal and Lia let out encouraging and embarrassing cheers across the room, letting Rolan know very well that they had seen it, and were fully intending on teasing him about it the rest of the day. Nirvana may have been worse for wear, but she could not have felt happier in that moment.

Rolan growled and showed his teeth to his siblings, embarrassed and flustered about it, such a reaction was nearly unheard of. His ears were brightly blushed and his neck felt hot beneath his hair.

“Damn bard,” he hissed, rubbing the back of his neck. Nirvana's heart was beating so quickly, she was sure he could feel it.

“Thank you Rolan~” She giggled, covering her own blushy face with her palms. It seemed that sometimes, even the flirty bard couldn't take what she so freely dished. “That's the best reward I could have ever asked for~ I'd break my beautiful face all over again just for that reward~”

“Your stupid face, more like,” Rolan muttered under his breath. His ruddy toned skin betrayed him so dearly in that moment, as did that all too obvious swish of his tail. Along with every action he'd taken since she arrived. Carrying her into bed to be safe, and checking in on her every hour. He didn't leave. He sat by her bed while she held his hand and fawned over him.