❝ not an idiot, no. . .❞ the drow begins with a barbed quality in her voice, arms crossing high over her chest as she stares the mage down. she is still quite angry at him for his intimate display towards her - still bitter and maybe even a little bit confused.

she's about at the end of her wits, fighting to keep her composure as her fingers curl into fists. her perfectly manicured nails press painfully into her palms, but it's better than risking biting through her lip. can you imagine the blood? the swollen, split skin? absolutely not. sev'erae curates her beauty with an almost obsessive focus –– such care is visible from her luscious hair to her shining shoes. she won't allow some scoundrel that eliza found on the street to disrupt that, no matter how dastardly he appears to be.

❝ you lied to me, ❞ sev'erae spits, the vibrant violet of her irises barely visible through her glaring gaze. ❝ of course, I liked you –– I thought you were who you pretended to be. and now I have to make as if I'm madly in love with... ❞ well, he's not hideous, is he? at least there's that. his face may be attractive, but there's no getting around his inferior everything else. ❝ ––with you! ❞ she finishes, dismissively.

✧ it had been too long since jessica had fed before her fatal attack , what choice did she really have ? it was either her , or her attacker. it was impulse , as that blade pierced straight through her abdomen and out of her back , and the blood pooled , with nowhere to escape but from her throat , choking and gagging. it was a dying , animalistic thought that made bright blue eyes darken with feral instincts as large fangs clicked into place , quickly sinking into her attacker’s throat. an artery opened , and flooded her with revival. the body fell limp , and the sword was removed with a scream of pain , followed by the wound quickly closing on its own.

jessica didn’t stick around long enough for the confrontation , her senses flooded with adrenaline and anxiety and euphoria from the blood all at once ── immediately , she was overwhelmed. she was gone in the blink of an eye , shifting into mist and making her way back to camp. the terrified looks on her companion’s faces were enough for jessica to begin to seriously worry about her safety around them. could she take them ? possibly. does she want to kill them ? fuck no. she likes them all so much. the thought of them being afraid of her and not trusting her hurts her in ways she can’t describe. she has worked so hard to be a good person , to fight against her nature.

she giggles, and something in the sound of it feels so...familiar. peaceful, like hot tea or warm fires, wrapping around her even as she knows it can chill. why that should be, she can't really tell. not exactly. not yet. but there are things scritch-scritch-scratching on the insides of her brain that have nothing to do with the tadpole (she thinks), and they're bound to break loose eventually. a tip of the head makes her look almost innocent, as though she has perfected this doe-eyed ingenue facade in the mirror. and perhaps, some day in the past, she had. perhaps that is why it comes so easily to her, now.

solomon is very clearly upset , and the spawn isn’t so ignorant as to why. it’s understandable even , his anger. after all , having a pair of fangs plunge themselves into your neck while you’re sleeping is probably one of the most least pleasant ways to awaken. and though astarion didn’t have time to consume more than a couple of sips before the wizard stirred , 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝.

a sliver of metallic glory upon his tongue , the way his fangs pierced through soft flesh with ease. the way his body didn’t resist against his movements , further proving that whatever power cazador held over him is slipping away. and though solomon is angry , and astarion should feel ashamed of himself for taking so freely ( and shame is certainly present , though not for the reasons it should be , but because the notion of disobeying cazador automatically ties his stomach in furious knots ) , he can’t help but smile. he is actually free of cazador’s rules. 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫. such a bittersweet emotion the spawn has for the tadpole wriggling around in his brain , but silently , he thanks it.

he’s a safe distance from the human now , defensively standing a few feet away as he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth with the tip of a pale finger , resisting the urge to suck the rest from his fingertip. he has never tasted such decadence in his entire miserable existence , and if he had tasted anything better in mortal life , he can’t remember. his expression , once fearful upon solomon’s awakening , has now shifted into one of deep satisfaction , and half - lidded crimson eyes finally find the wizard’s miffed gaze , ❛ i would tell you not to tempt me with a good time , darling , ❜ a mask smirk tugs at the sharp corners of astarion’s slightly bloodied lips.

Send your character's height and I'll compare it to mine.

usually he wouldn't insist on enlisting any happen on his travels, the oathkeeper was capable of defending himself - well experienced with a sword, combined with his sharp tongue they made quite the pair. but his trip included something of higher value this time, the extra help wouldn't hurt if he was to come across trouble. he knew the people in the city well enough, but he knew those who walked the roads too, some were desperate and others just greedy.

he wouldn't admit to needing help out loud, his ego wouldn't allow such bruising, but a little companionship could go a long way. the smith approached the wizard not far outside of the city - at the very start of his journey. " you don't happen to be in the mood for a little adventure, do you? i'll pay you for it. i could do with an extra set of eyes. "