#UNWARRIOR , an original bg3 ' tav ' : mutya solenne , the unsleeping blade . note that this blog will be canon divergent , private / selective , & sporadically active . minors dni . lovingly penned by kitty ( nineteen / she & they / white & filipina ) .

a story about guilt , & penance. about what turns a good dog bad , & back again. about the absolvement of sins , & what it really means to be good / evil. about old habits dying hard. about how wrong your mother was about so many things , & how right she was about so many more. about failing yourself , & others , & how it would destroy you to fail again. you terrible thing , how could you possibly right all these wrongs ?

IT IS NOT SO OFTEN , that the drow allow herself a moment of respite. but here , tonight ? she feels it only appropriate , to indulge ⏤ in her own way , of course. lain across the cool sands of the camp's cove , propped up by her elbows , listening to the sounds of music & laughter & profound joy. this moment , her , alone , with a good view & a glass of wine ... for her , solitary her , it is almost enough to constitute a perfect night ... almost ... but , she feels a pair of eyes on her , & ⏤ she cannot help that , for whatever reason , she only hopes that they have come to intrude upon her private moment.

" iliad. i can see you watching me , you know ... oh , & not just tonight. " & the words break through what silence previously lived there , hanging light in the air between them. such amused , teasing things , sounding almost as if the rough edges of her voice had been smoothed out by wine & song. perhaps they have. " i think you admire me. " she says , suddenly , & with a newfound warmth to her tone. oh , this is strange indeed , how contented the drow seems to be. it is a rarer sight than perhaps even illiad knows. but what is stranger still , is how the corners of her lips seem to pull up into a smile ⏤ & how the darkness of her eyes seem to shine , as they land much affection upon her companion.

HOW EASILY THE HEART DISENTANGLES FROM THE MIND. as if they were never entwined at all. & helm's knight is no fool. keen eye , sharp wit , all those things that intellects supposedly possess. but here , in this moment , under the scrutiny of the sun , she is certain she looks like one : softened gaze resting gently upon her dearest , most fearsome companion.

the dull ache in her side ( that soft spot where flesh & blood was once torn clean ) serves to remind her of all of the ways in which she is likely endangering herself , betraying her own better interests. to protect is her life's purpose. & yet , here she is , entirely transfixed by this woman , seemingly ailed by violence itself ⏤ even as she watches her stew in the shame of it.

" wren. " mutya speaks her name , softer than normal , as though savoring the taste of it. " you look exhausted. & troubled. " & she moves closer to her companion , watchful eyes taking in the whole of her , making note of all that she might need to be concerned over. by the morning light , it is easier to see the toll their journey has taken. rest does not come easily anymore these days. not to any of them.

still , though the paladin is watchful of all those under her wing ⏤ on this morn , it is only wren that she comes to fret over. posture slacked , features softened , something like worry etched into the curve of her brow. is not oft she is hailed for her tenderness. no , there is certainly extra care , here. made all the more apparent when she leans down , tucks an errant strand of hair behind wren's ear.

" let me take the brunt of things today. rest , when you can. " ( do note , how her words are oh so honeyed , voice slow & husky , & with a sincerity known by none of the others ). " there is no need for you to carry any extra weight. not when i am here to serve. " & she takes wren's hand in her own , cranes her neck down , presses her lips softly against the back of it. for as chaste & as quick as it is , she allows them both to linger in that position , red eyes looking up through a curtain of lashes , betraying nothing , other than , perhaps , her own undying loyalty.

" i am your knight. make use of me , as you wish. "