#sw0rdancer

his hands twitch over the rope restraining her, invertedly pulling hard enough to make her wince. “ just—shut up. ” he hisses. his fingers tighten around the scratchy fibers until the cuts on his knuckles split and his skin whitens.

sweat dampens at his hairline, dirt smudging across the skin of his neck, and clay eyes narrow on the path ahead. he tugs her behind him, somehow still mindful of her limp, and equally careful of the bruising at his own side. as decisive as their fight had been, arthur's anxieties continued to grow long after swords are put down and captives are restrained. her bickering does not help either—the way she continues to slander his lord and attempt to sow doubt in his own resolve.

his irritation is evident. arthur's shoulders square, his face drawn into a deep scowl, motions jerking and imprecise. he has shown her more of himself than he would have liked, winning their bout partially because of the hum of power still hot under his skin, and angered into taut silence because of her insistence to question the integrity and authority of his duke. and oh, she latched onto his unease, onto the frivolous rumor of velgorod's cruelty to people like him, and to the duke's own callous treatment of his favorite demon. yes, the lord is mad, she would say. a bad man. a man who had stolen him from his home and forced him into service, if rumors were right.

“ and ?? ” he was nothing if he was not loyal, after all. he was nothing if he was not this. right ??

since the tadpole, she has been plagued by dreams. sometimes they feel familiar - insight resting on the tip of their tongue. faces and voices and homes and bodies flood their vision every night. but she never knows if they belong to her. it seems that their group has started sharing their dreams amongst each other. images of a young wyll with his father, a pair of tiefling parents that are not hers, the dark streets of baldur's gate upper city. she never shares these with the matching companion - an unwillingness to have to discuss that her own dreams remain mysteries.

the previous night has given her the most cohesive dream yet. parents that look like her - drow with purple eyes. skin not quite the same color and purple irises a little more dark, but similar nonetheless. and she swears she knows them, that she feels a love for them. her dreamy eyes catch the glint of the pendant the woman wears - a silver bastard sword against a silver moon. the recognition of it belonging to eilistraee comes without hesitation.

by morning, she is sure that these people are her parents. since her eyes first opened on the nautilus, she has not spared a thought for where she came from. but now it rattles and grates against her nerves because she can't remember. and she wants to. desperately.

it is only when the group is getting ready does she feel eyes on her. yué, the cleric of eilistraee, stands across the camp with her gaze turned on phyrra. by the expression on her face, it is obvious that yué was also subjected to her dreams the night before and without a doubt recognizes the same symbols that phyrra does.

@sw0rdancer says : ‘ it’s six am. it’s time to train. ’

LEON  IS  SURPRISED  to  hear  her  voice  sound  so  CLEAR  despite  the  BLEARY  STILLNESS  that  wraps  around  the  still  too-cold  MORNING  AIR  .  it’s  WINTER  ,  now  —  the  LEAVES  which  had  once  littered  the  soil  where  they  FIRST  MET  have  all  but  FROZEN  OVER  and  been  PRESERVED  beneath  sheaths  of  THICK  ,  WHITE  SNOW  . 

he  wouldn’t  BLAME  HER  for  greeting  the  raw  and  ABYSMALLY  DARK  HOUR  with  a  GROTESQUE  DISMAY  ;  there  was  a  TIME  when  he  too  found  BITTERNESS  in  the  dreary  skies  and  behind  his  STINGING  EYES  .  (  he’s  ALWAYS  had  trouble  sleeping  ,  after  all  .  NO  MATTER  the  presence  of  SUN  or  STARS  )  .

but  THAT  was  BEFORE  santiago  had  set  him  on  THIS  PATH  :  one  where  he  could  often  only  KEEP  GOING  by  finding  (  and  times  FABRICATING  )  the  SMALLER  JOYS  found  in  nature’s  UNIQUE  BOUNTY  .  all  including  a  CHILLY  MORNING  that  bites  through  his  skin  and  makes  him  feel  ALIVE  by  the  time  he’s  done  enough  WARMING  UP  not  to  feel  it  LOCK  UP  every joint in his  body  .

❛  another  EARLY  RISER  ?  ❜  leon  GLANCES  BACK  at  her  over  his  shoulder  where  he  HOVERS  still  in  the  field  ,  having  only  JUST  finished  a  BRIEF  WARMUP  .  A  GRIN  spreads  across  his  face  as  he  turns  around  ,  GESTURING  to  the  open  field  around  him  in  WELCOMING  INVITATION  ,   ❛  and  SO  EAGER  to  start  already  !  are  you  the  RESTLESS  sort  ?  or  just  THOROUGHLY  DISCIPLINED  ?  ❜

yué's seemingly lack of urgency is slightly concerning to helena. the area is full and while they can see their main priority ahead of them, everyone else remains an unknown. she takes a deep breath before resting back on her heels, gaze leaving yué to turn back to the group before them. she observes what the other woman sees - a group of drunk fools, surrounded by equally drunk goblins. blissfully unaware of the two women watching them.

horse-shoes  on  gravel  ,  the  road  laden  with  dirty  &&  detriments  of  the  crash  landing  of  a  ship  so  alien  replaced  by  complete  silence  ,  a  defining  darkness  .     grotesque  &&  eldritch     (  beyond  comprehension  )     the  ranger  had  sketched  the  remainder  of  the  landscapes  ,  but  dared  not  step  foot  in  the  abyss  of  the  shadows  .

                                        𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏  𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓  𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔                  @sw0rdancer  :  "This     is     getting     dangerous     now."

jezebel  reared  ,  scared  of  the  wall  of  pitch  before  him  .     with  soothing  tones  ,  the  mare  has  settled  .     agitation  under  skin  ,  the  masters  voice  only  a  bandage  on  that  dread  .   

"     you  don't  say  ?     "    arthur  leaned  over  the  saddle  ,  taking  a  better  look  .    "     nah  -----  don't  think  i'll  be  steppin'  foot  in  that  .  "

fingers  rose  the  brim  of  his  hat  ,  but  his  eyes  squinted  not  from  the  light  ,  but  to  judge  the  depth  of  the  darkness  .   

"     look  ,  miss  ,  i  aint  a  hero  ;     gonna  take  a  lot  of  money  to  get  me  to  continue  here  .     "

the crackle of flame upon firewood provides the perfect backdrop, accompanying the soothing timbre of yué's timbre enough for wisdom to root, at least enough for comfort, while true belief may take much longer than a handful of conversation. luke hardly viewed it, her cadence, as a practiced skill, rehearsed and refined for one's own societal advancement. rather, something inherent, warmth in the same way moonlight flittered upon the wool of his charitable hand-me-downs. it was well-enough for her to sit with him, solidarity in solitude he hadn't known much of before since he was cast out of his village, and even more to truly speak. his gratitude was nothing short of palpable, with a smile etched onto his features, dimpled cheeks and all, only masked by a bowed head, eyes trained on his lap so as to not come off as too much.

                                     becoming elizabeth.

@sw0rdancer: ❛ what devil down there is playing finger puppets with us all ? ❜

❝       you're   getting   fingered ?       ❞     she   retorts   in   mock   surprise,   a   smirk   curving   her   lips.  

her   companion   is   a   sharp   one   as   well,   &    alara   can't   help   but   prod,    placing   her   under   a degree   of   pressure   like   testing a   blemish to see how ready it is to burst.  plus,   at   this   point,   she'll   take   just   about   any   distraction   from   the   hot   sun   beating   down   on   them.

lathander's   scorching   rays   sting   like   divine   punishment   given   their   recent   exceptionally terrible   luck,   &   she   wishes   they   instead   found   a   cleric   of   his   who   might   remind   him   they're   hardly   undead   abominations   &    could   use   a   little   grace,   besides.

alas. 

emeralds glint , brows knitted in sheer perplexity . a mere observation roots her to the spot , setting a rattle within ivory ribcage mirroring the throbbing ache in her wrist . her carefully crafted guise of marble serenity threatens to shatter , revealing raw , human fear beneath stoic exterior . she has felt the press of the nocturne realm of underdark too heavily upon her psyche , the tender embrace of her deity tightening akin a noose around her throat . she knows what she must do , yet with each step forward hesitation settles deeper within , half-forgotten memories flickering like a distant lantern threatening to swallow her whole .

she hesitates to let her into arcane workings of her faith , yet denying her now-evident concern feels absurd . meeting her gaze , icy beneath sooty lashes , tone settles into a steady cadence . ❛ it’s nothing to worry about . ❜ she assures , though her words carry little reassurance . ❛ there are things between me and my faith that cannot be comprehended [...] ❜ by unbelievers . posture straightens , gloved digits curling to steady herself . she knows it will not be enough to quell the concern in those eyes , yet she has nothing more to offer . ❛ i swear , it will not hinder our aim . if anything , it may even prove . . . beneficial . ❜

𝙱𝙰𝙻𝙳𝚄𝚁𝚂 𝙶𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝟹 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃𝚈 𝙱𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 ft @sw0rdancer ✺