#shentacles

How is Mystra treating you, Dekarios?

Ah. Failure, Gale knows, is about as damning as a thing that a wizard can wear. They're a ruthless sort, of course, and have always -- and very zealously -- been very quick to bandy some unfortunate gossip. Their chatter swarms the halls, the tales of someone's shame as common as spell, and with the gravity and magnitude of his own failing? Gale frowns. Naturally, even the majesty of Waterdeep couldn't pen his shame.

He now stands there quietly, a sort of -- warm, deep crackling taking to his bones. Shen's a knot at his a brow and an unfriendly, twisted line at his firmly clenched jaw. He hadn't expected it, to be honest, for this friend to start bristling and championing his name. Evidently, that wizard hadn't either as they clamor past indignantly in a stunning shade of rage. Gale hardly has the words as he would glance Shen's way, but perhaps Shen needn't his gratitude regardless. Flanked by the sun in Baldur's Gate, he is -- well, impressive as always.

she sighs, turning her face up to the misty sky; its gray-bruise pallor is a hopeful reminder of rainbows around the corner, should the sun show its face. ❝ smells like it. wind's all ether and electricity. I should start warning the kids to stay in, ❞ she all but murmurs to herself, thinking of the deluge that will come down on the shepherd's pie come nightfall. but she doesn't move quite yet, instead stealing a glance at shen, whose quietly thoughtful gaze snags her attention. unbidden, her stomach lurches. she smiles before letting her eyes travel back to the sky.

❝ you shouldn't travel in this weather. you should... you should spend the night. ❞ she lifts her brows, daring him to object. though, meadow might not stop him if he truly wishes to leave. ❝ stay. spend the night and help me keep an eye on the children. they're bound to get rowdy all cooped up, and you know they love you. ❞ hard not to, she wants to add, though she suspects shen might be able to read the words somewhere on her face; she's always been hopeless like that. ❝ whatd'ya say? ❞ a hint of teasing trickles into her voice. " or what, are you going to have me brace this awful storm all on my own? ❞

the bandage that usually remained securely fastened around his wrist hiding the mark there had been forgotten in his rush that morning. it wasn't intentional, a slip of the mind - perhaps one he'd done intentionally after spending time with shen on more than one occasion. still he'd not expected it to come up in conversation. aksel had never spoken about it, he felt foolish to have allowed it in the first place and for it to become what it was now... it was better kept a secret.

there were some parts he could tell without saying too much and scaring of the other he hoped. eyes drifted to the exposed mark and then to shen. " my father gave it to me years ago, " he began but hesitated before speaking again. " he told me if i could endure the pain it would prove me to be a man and i believed him, " aksel shrugged his shoulders as he met shen's eyes with his own. " now i realise that was just foolish and he wasn't telling me the real reason for it. "

@shentacles asked:

“Death greets us all - but not today.”

fortunately,  the  rumbling  comes  an  end  without  crushing  him  in  the  process.  unfortunately,  the  elf  soon  realizes  the  horror  is  only  beginning  —  for  the  little  crevice  he's  tucked  himself  into  has  been  completely  surrounded  by  a  cocoon  of  wet,  dark  rock.  trapped.  caged.  entombed.

❝  ...  ❞   the  last  thought  pulls  a  soft,  distressed  sound  from  his  lips  —  not  unlike  the  keening  of  a  wounded  animal.  a  hand  reaches  out,  pushing  feebly  on  the  stone  to  no  avail.  ❝  no.  no,  no,  no  —  shit! ❞  incoherent,  terrified  ramblings.  they  bleed  into  a  mantra,  a  chorus  of  no  and  not  again  as  a  second  hand  joins  the  first  —  scrabbling  uselessly  against  the  rock.  he  doesn't  realize  he  isn't  alone  in  this  confined  space,  mind  deteriorating  into  a  panic-fueled  haze.  he  needs  to  get  out  of  here.  he  needs  to  get  out  of  here.  he  needs  to ...

@shentacles &&. liked for a STARTER.

in another life , eulalie was somebody. noble blood ran through her veins , & she let no opportunity pass her by. a true prodigy. a seamstress , a violinist , a dancer ⏤ she was a patron of the arts , esteemed for her worldliness , her resolve , her grace. now ? she was nothing. a ghost. with blackened blood , & clouded memories. & all she can do is cling to what little she has left of her past.

sewing , of course , is no longer an option. neither is the violin , that finicky , stringed instrument. no , those arts belonged to the nimble , & her tender hands trembled far too much. but ... she can dance. & dance she does. nearly every night , in fact. though it is not so graceful as it once was ⏤ her body a bruised , clumsy little thing , prone to breaking , & the spins ⏤ but it is her heaven. she'll play a record , something slow & sweet , & hold herself in her arms , pretend she is not so inhuman for a little while.

tonight , though ... tonight , she feels eyes on her , feels the wind carry her lonely away. & her one - woman - waltz slows , as she is greeted by the sight of a slender drow , a charming smile , & an outstretched hand. it pleases her so , makes her shame melt away , that anyone at all might be willing to join her. lips upturn sheepishly & cheeks darken ( blush , shade undeath ) , & she wordlessly takes his hand in hers , ever so gentle as she guides him to move in step with her.