what will you do, when it is your turn in the field with the god

“And you wanted to be real, to be swallowed by what drowns you only to surface, brimming at the mouth.”

— Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

VERCINGETORIX FELIXIUS BARNEWALL

independent & selective original druid muse based on D&D and BG3

written by scout

it's cute, really, that she is even trying to do this. or at least it would be but her eyes are flashing with a kind of emotion that sets his teeth on edge. it's almost frightening, actually, and he really should not be this attracted to her right now.

but he is. so much so that he lets her pin him in place, lets her hold him still as she gazes up at him.

"if it were a fight i was bringin', you'd not be able to speak without one of them fancy necromancy spells."

fuck it. the cry of the barbarian, yeah? the legacy of his father: your life is nothing if you can't throw it all away for the blood and sheer fucking delight of the battle. that was what fueled the bite of his reply to the pretender.

he had been hired on as one of the patriarch's bodyguard and had been doing well thus far, but this fucker was a splinter digging under the nail bed. he was a rotten tooth you couldn't stop tonguing until your gums ached. he was making it hard to shut up and do his fucking job.

his expression had been grim, at best, until a rogue thought had the corner of his mouth ticking upward in a dark, smug smile.