†

a selection of lines from the various companions' banter quotes (not cut scene dialogues!) from baldur's gate 3. these are generally spoiler free and non context specific so they can apply to different settings and dynamics! feel free to change names and the like to customize the prompts.

“Death can't have me. Not yet…”

“Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.”

“Realmspace is vast. Countless worlds to be mapped, kingdoms to be conquered.”

“I have missed this. The adventure. The danger. The kicking of butts!

“Let me guess - you need something.”

“Such attention.. I never realised I was so popular.”

“Let's cook with fire, baby.”

“Do you intend to vocalise every thought?. Or just the most obvious ones?”

“Wherever we go, ye gods let there be something green.”

“Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.”

“Watch your elders and learn.”

“Perhaps try attacking the enemy?”

“So much we don't know, lingering in the furthest reaches of existence.”

“All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.”

“The shadows are my friend.”

“Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.”

“Feet planted firmly on Faerûn, please.”

“Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities.”

“Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you?”

“I am ready, whatever may come.”

“My faith protects me.”

“Need a throat slitting?”

“Death greets us all - but not today.”

“You need my expertise?”

“Can you feel death's cold grip?”

“So many stars, so many mysteries yet to be discovered.”

“Death comes quietly.”

“And I thought we were going to be friends.”

“Locked tight, but there must be some way to open it.”

“No, you can't die. Get up, damn you!

“You had my attention, now you have my fury.”

“From silence to suffering.”

“So many worlds out there. You'd need a thousand lifetimes to see them all - more.”

“I hope this is important. For your sake.”

“Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.”

“I ought to just burn this whole thing down.”

“We have slightly more pressing matters to attend to.”

“You have still have time to surrender.”

“Every kicked buttock, another step on the path.”

“Weave save me. I can't take much more…

“You are right to fear me.”

“Let me look around. Might be something that'll help me crack this thing.”

“Incredible, to think how many worlds exist beyond this tiny speck within a speck I call home.”

“I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.”

“I can fawn over my face later.”

“Ready for another round?”

“Keep your blade close.”

“I can't unlock it from here, but there must be a switch or a button somewhere…”

“No, that's not moving. There must be a way to open it somewhere.”

“Battle favours the fearless.”

“Sleep with one eye open, evil. Maybe both.”

“Gotta be something around here to unlock this thing.”

“Why do beautiful people taste better?. It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities.”

“Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too.”

“Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails.”

“Still standing, no matter what you heard.”

“Enough waiting. I crave blood.”

“Hang on - I won't allow this. You aren't dead, go it?”

“GODS, it's HOT in here!”

“No rest for the wicked, I see.”

“Better to hide than fight, sometimes.”

“Would that I could hide from you, too.”

“Are you feeling lonely, perhaps?”

“There is no right or wrong, only truth.”

“Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe.”

“What good all this ethereal eladrin blood if I can still get pimples?”

“I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.”

“I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness.”

“Let's have some fun.”

“War is an old woman's game.”

“No rest, be you wicked or wise.”

“I'm getting too old for this nonsense.”

“I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want.”

“You have my attention - now do something with it.”

“You are insistent, are you not?”

“Do what must be done.”

“Your suffering will be spectacular.”

“Lest I sit down for a rest and not rise again.”

“Better to look evil in the eye. Even if it be very small.”

“I'm not built to crouch.”

“I think I could go another round.”

“Always the same old song.”

“Is perfection too much to ask?”

“Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner.”

“So many places to be.. and I chose Baldur's Gate.”

“I'm not opening that. Not from here, at any rate.”

“What is the point, if not victory?”

“Won't last much longer like this.”

“Let's hope the locals are friendly.”

“Let us show them how it's done.”

“Weapons high. Standards higher.”

“Must everyone be so exhausting?”

“What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb…”

“Which way to the nearest library?”

“Now this is my happy place.”

“Who shall I silence?”

“Stop, or die.”

ORIAS ; then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, 'depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire.' / art credit.

Under the 'read more' is a bio for my semi-fandomless original character, Orias. He was originally crafted for the Supernatural universe, and still meshes well with the lore – several plot points of his are extracted from or influenced by the show. However, his backstory relies heavily upon my own personal interpretation of demons and Hell, which does not necessarily follow Supernatural canon. You do not need to have watched the show to indulge in or understand Orias' lore.

gently hands wrap around the flower pot, as she lifts it from her workbench. the roots were nearly too damaged to save ; but sylvia is nothing if not persistent. centuries of life will do that to an individual. there's a moment in which her mind swirls around those centuries -- the changes she's seen, the things she's lost. of course, with loss, there is always gain. a sigh slips from her lips as she turns on her heel. she takes a single step forward before her vision goes black. she feels the ground give out beneath her.

she inhales a large breath, only to feel her mouth fill with dirt. one hand grips around the potted plant that somehow made this weird journey with her. her other hand makes quick work to pull her collar around her mouth. it does little good, but a little is all she really needs. she tucks the plant within the crook of her elbow, before she lets her fingers begin to claw at the dirt falling around her. it takes less than two minutes before she feels cool air hit her hands. thankfully, it's a fresh grave.

nails dig into the fresh dirt as she pulls herself out of the earth. fresh breaths of air are pulled desperately into her lungs. ( she's pulled herself from her own grave -- this stranger's is nothing. ) she half-haphazardly dumps the plant onto the patch of dug soil, careful to keep it upright, as she pulls herself completely from the dirt. eyes study the darkened sky above her, as she gives herself a moment to catch her breath. this sky is different from the one she is used to. this air is different from the one she is used to. the thought rises her from her laid position faster than she knows she should, though, she feels no wave of dizziness like she expects.

eyes glance around the area, as she notices the tracks of soil covered bare feet leading into the path of yellow leaves. "what is this ? the wizard of oz ?" words are mumbled to herself, as she gathers her potted plant, and lifts herself to her feet. she moves to brush the dirt from her dress, her eyes casting down before -- a loud groan falls from her lips. she should have listened to her instincts this morning and worn a darker color. the baby blue dress is now covered in a thick layer of soil and [ . . . ] she doesn't want to even think about it.

eyes move back ahead of her, before a sigh is slipping from her lips. "great. could've at least given me a road sign, or something." her words are once more mumbled out to only herself, as she begins to follow the lightening footsteps on the path. she's lost count of her steps before she's hearing voices ahead of her.

As far as summoning spells went, this was ... crude -- but it would do. ( She supposed. ) The makeshift coven gathers 'round the summoning circle; Agatha, of course, incorrigibly, taking the lead in the incantation. Each witch takes their turn naming the characteristics they so desired of their green witch.

Soon, six pairs of eyes fall upon Eden.

"Uh." Bare feet pad forth, she leans and places her offering on the ground. "Let her be competent."

A sigh falls from Agatha's lips -- a sigh Eden ignores as she steps back to join the others. Let her be competent, a very on-brand desire for the witch known to have little patience and a general apathy for most others. But within? Eden knows she would stand before the summoning circle for hours -- days, even, for the green witch she really wanted.

Her mind flashes with an image of her face as the incantation begins again.

Sylvia.

Of course, Sylvia isn't the one that shows up. No, it's... Rio. Eerily familiar, yet the witch is near-certain they hadn't met. And this Rio, she knows how to stir up trouble just as well as Agatha; as the next trial appears before them, discourse arises within the group.

"We don't really have much of a choice but to move forward." Eden dryly interjects, which is met with enthusiasm from Teen. ( Really, where the hell was there to go but forward? ) Eden begins to pad towards the house, pushing ahead -- past the others, when a voice causes her to come to a halt.

It is not a voice from within the group. No -- it can't be.

Slowly, the witch turns around, as if any quick or sudden movement will cause the source of the voice to vanish. Green eyes fall upon a familiar... dirt-covered face.

"Sylvia." It isn't a question; if one listens closely, they might sense the relief in Eden's voice. She's now pushing past the others again, in the opposite direction. Her hands reach out and grab the woman's arms. She looks her up and down; her blue dress is covered with dirt. ( Did she ... ? But Rio is the green witch they summoned. Isn't she? How is she here? )

"We're on The Witches' Road! Hi!" Teen pipes up; he's right behind Eden now, his head peering over her shoulder.

Eden's eyes remain locked on Sylvia, and her hands remain clamped to her arms before something snaps within the witch. She steps back, wiping her now dirt-covered hands on her pants. She swats Teen away, and he stumbles backwards, a flurry of 'sorry, sorry' flying from his mouth. Yep, she's back to her old self again.

"So, the fucking Road is real." Despite what her mother assumed. "And we're on it. Surprise." The last word is said with an almost venomous sarcasm.

Eden makes a nodding gesture towards the house on the path ahead of them. "That's our next trial. And someone's already died."

The witch turns back towards the rest of the group now. "Did I miss anything?"

@theorganon | sam to astarion.

“You’re being rather quiet.” Sam said, taking a seat next to him at camp. It wasn’t like him to be this silent. As a cleric, she wants to check on him. As his lover, she wants to check in on him. “So you know what the scars mean now. That means we can stop Cazador in his tracks.”

Some gift, to be a walking curse, a lowly soul.

Crimson eyes shift upwards towards Sam as she lowers herself beside him. Warm flesh touches cold, porcelain skin. The fire crackles before them.

Astarion does not move his hand; it simply remains below hers — and as the cleric’s gaze flits towards him, the spawn turns to look into the fire. A corner of his lips curls upwards.

“Yes, I suppose it does. The bastard.”

A mask of humor — a mask he knows fails with her.

“You temptress,” is his next response. A waterfall, hm? “I’ll come, though you should know it’s not the waterfall I’m quite interested in exploring.”

As Sam offers her hand, Astarion takes it willingly. He needn’t help getting up, but who could refuse the grasp of those warm, soft hands of hers? Certainly not him.

The two walk side-by-side, with Astarion following her lead. He’s wrapped an arm around her.

Whalefall💫🩸

I saw this post and haven't known peace since