#rix eats in his own right. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

all-the-things-2020 · 4 months

Text

Deeds Not Less Valiant - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Summary: Din and Tala get closer and a tragedy occurs.

Rating: PG-13 (nothing explicit but there is some touching and mentions of mild sexual arousal)

Word Count: 1975+

After they returned from Mandalore, things went back to the usual routine, with one exception. Now Din came by Tala’s place twice a week: once to drop Grogu off while he met with Greef, and once when he left Grogu with IG-11 so he and Tala could spend some time alone. Sometimes they walked through town, perusing the items for sale in the marketplace before selecting something as a gift for Grogu; other times they just sat on her couch, talking and touching. Din was more comfortable on the former occasions, but he truly enjoyed the latter despite his awkwardness. He liked holding her hand, the way she played with his fingers and traced random shapes on his skin with her fingertips. He liked the way she felt pressed against his side, her head resting on his shoulder (after he’d removed his pauldron, of course — beskar was too cold and rigid to be an effective pillow). And he loved feeling her hands giving his thigh a little squeeze, tickling at his ribs, or fiddling with the collar of his undersuit.

At first, he was reluctant to touch her, but she soon made it clear that his hands were welcome on most parts of her body. He still hadn’t worked up the nerve to touch her anywhere that could be considered private, though. It didn’t seem fair when so much of his own body was still hidden behind armor.

“I have an idea,” Tala said one day as they settled onto the couch. Din was wary, because she was wearing a flowing dress, not her typical shirt and pants. The dress had a low cut neckline and only reached the tops of her knees.

“Um, okay,” he said.

“I know you can’t take off your helmet, but can you remove the rest of your armor?”

“I … I could, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable,” he said. “I wouldn’t feel safe.”

She nodded and reached for his arm. “But if you took off these vambraces …” She fumbled with the hooks that attached the beskar armor to his undersuit. “And the pauldrons, then you could hug me better.”

All Din could do was nod as she carefully removed the beskar from his arms.

“And if you took off the breastplate, I could lay against your chest,” she said. “We could cuddle.”

“I suppose that would be all right,” he said. He was getting nervous but it wasn’t fear; it was anticipation. He helped her unfasten the breastplate and lay it aside with the rest of his armor.

Tala smiled and crawled onto his lap, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her head resting just over his heart. He let his arms slide around her and hold her close. “There, now isn’t that better?,” she asked. He could feel her voice against his chest.

“Much better,” he replied. She was warm and soft and he just wanted to melt into her. Even with the thick fabric of his undersuit between them, he could feel her body in a way he hadn’t been able to before. And it felt right.

They sat in silence for several minutes, then Tala began to talk. “I miss this. Cuddling. I probably shouldn’t be talking about another man while we’re this close, but Rix and I used to spend lazy mornings in bed on my day off. Nothing sexual, just curling up and eating sweet buns and caf and maybe watching a holovid or listening to some music. Just being together.”

“It sounds nice,” Din said. He couldn��t help picturing himself and Tala in bed, warm and cozy in the blankets. His hand strayed down her back a bit, dangerously close to her bottom.

“Of course,” she said, wiggling a little closer, “sometimes it did turn into something … more.” She slid one of her arms around his waist, her fingers dipping toward the waistband of his pants. Din shifted a little to hide the reaction that was occurring in his nether regions. He didn’t want to embarrass her. Or himself.

“Um, that’s nice, too,” he stammered.

Tala laughed. “Very nice,” she murmured, nuzzling against his chest. “But we can get to that when you’re ready. For now, cuddling is enough.”

Din nodded, but he wasn’t sure. He wanted more.

**********************************************

Tala didn’t want to push him, but she wanted Din to know that she was ready for whatever steps he was willing to take. Of course, she would have loved to kiss him, to feel his lips against her skin, but there were plenty of other ways a man could please a woman … and ways a woman could please a man. She’d thought about flat out asking him if he wanted her to touch him, but she knew it would embarrass him. So she’d opted for a more subtle approach. Now, curled up in his lap, head resting against his chest, she could feel him slowly relaxing into the embrace, and that was enough for the moment. She wanted him to feel at ease with her, with himself.

“I … I’ve never done this before,” he said suddenly.

“I know,” she said.

“I mean, I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want to do something wrong.”

She brought her hand up to trace circles against his shirt. “You won’t disappoint me. And you can’t do anything wrong. If you do something I don’t like, I’ll tell you, and you do the same. Not everyone likes the same things. Some people can’t stand to have their feet touched, or are extremely ticklish, or whatever. And you can ask for things. If I do something you really like, let me know so I can do it again.”

“I like this,” he said. “Just being together. Touching. Holding each other.”

“Me, too. But if you want more, just let me know.”

“Do you want more?”

“I do. But we’re going at your pace, Din. I have no problem with taking the scenic route, as long as we take it together.”

His hand slid from her waist to her hip. “I wish I could kiss you,” he said softly.

“Kiss me with your hands,” she said. “I’ll bet your fingertips are as soft as your lips.”

She slipped a hand behind him and pulled loose the hem of his shirt, exposing a tiny sliver of skin above his waistband. She trailed her fingers against him and she felt him shiver. “Just like this,” she said.

He hesitated, then raised his hand to her neck, grazing his fingers lightly against her skin. “You’re so soft,” he said. “And warm.”

“So are you, underneath all that beskar.”

He chuckled. “I’ve never been described as soft before. At least, not as a compliment.” His hand slid further down, shying away from her breast to settle against her side.

“You can touch them, you know,” she said. “You can touch me anywhere.”

“I … I know. But I’m not ready just yet. I’m enjoying this.”

“So am I,” she replied. And it was true. Just being held by Din was pleasurable. Knowing that he felt safe with her, that he trusted her … it made her heart swell. This is love, she thought, although she would never speak the feeling out loud. Not yet.

****************************************************

Is this love? Din wondered as he felt Tala slowly drift off to sleep. She was so trusting, so vulnerable. He knew what I felt like to want to protect someone who was helpless but this was different. This was more like quiet times with Grogu, when they were simply together, existing side by side and everything felt right. Nothing expected of him, nothing to ask for, just a warm happy feeling that he remembered from when he was a small boy. Feeling safe and … loved. Yes, it must be love. But not the same kind of love he felt for Grogu. This was something fiercer, more volatile. He knew these lazy caresses could erupt into something closer to violence, something that could hurt them both if they weren’t careful. Something he was just beginning to realize that he craved, at least with her.

He couldn’t rush into it, though. Love was one thing; making a lifelong commitment was another. People fell in and out of love all the time. They made friends and walked away from them every day. As much as he wanted to bare his body and soul to Tala, he had to be careful. Taking a spouse is forever, he reminded himself. There were ancient rituals for taking a riddur, words that needed to be spoken and witnessed and taken to heart as solemnly as the Creed. You have to be sure.

*********************************************************************

Tala got used to people deferring to her in the marketplace, stepping aside to allow her to pass. Word had gotten around town that she was “Mando’s girl” and no one wanted to risk insulting the High Magistrate’s number one ally. At first it was flattering, then irritating, and now it just was. Nevarro was civilized but too many people remembered the old days, during the Empire and just after its fall, when things here on the Outer Rim had been chaotic. Order had returned — real order, not the sham imposed by the Empire — but not everyone trusted it yet.

Which wasn’t to say shady things didn’t go on. Even Coruscant had its darker elements, and like most of the residents of Nevarro, Tala had learned to turn a blind eye to some of her neighbors. Like the Typhe twins, Maro and Haro. They lived on the block behind her, running an engine shop that mostly worked on land speeders and hover bikes and anti-grav lifts, but also engaged in some modifications that were not strictly legal. Every once in a while, an unsavory group would arrive, take possession of something bulky and vaguely menacing, and disappear, leaving the twins with a much more substantial bank account, judging by the liberal way they spent credits at the local cantina in the days following one of those visits.

IG-11 kept an eye on them, but they weren’t dealing in weapons or spice, and if their engines were powering pirate ships, well, there was no proof of that, and the pirates weren’t bothering the Nevarrans, so Greef was content to simply solicit a “donation” to the community fund when the twins were flush. And the twins were content to donate now and then, deeming it a business expense, and cheaper than paying off the Hutts like they’d had to do on the last planet they’d lived on.

So when Tala left work one day and heard an explosion followed by a cloud of dust and rubble in the direction of her neighborhood, she knew it had to be the Typhe shop.

Neeli! She ran toward the noise and confusion, fighting her way past everyone who was trying to get away from it.

“You can’t go that way,” someone shouted at her. “The buildings are falling apart.”

”My tooka,” she gasped. “I have to …”

A hand grabbed her arm and dragged her backward. “If your pet is still alive, it’ll be alright. If not, no use getting yourself killed, too.”

Tala slapped at the hand. “Let go of me!” She wrenched her arm free and kept running.

Her apartment building was in ruins. One outer wall still teetered in place, fighting gravity to stay upright. The rest was crumbled in a pile of plastisteel beams and concrete. Still, there were plenty of crevices where a tooka could take refuge.

I’m coming, Neeli. I’ll find you, girl.

She climbed into the rubble, coughing from the dust, her eyes streaming. “Neeli! Nee-nee girl! Come on, tooka-tooka-tooka. Neeli! NEELI!”

Her words were drowned out by the collapse of the standing wall, and she was covered in a shower of concrete bricks and mortar dust.

#the mandalorian #star wars #grogu #baby yoda #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x original female character #tooka cat #deeds not less valiant

9 notes · View notes

thetrashbagswasteland · 4 months

Note

Can I get the student pls 🥺👉👈

why yes ofc you can! Ftr The Student is my fic for Avitus' recruitment, viewed through Saren's eyes as he comes to the realisation that the only thing he likes less than other people is proving his naysayers right for claiming that he's an antisocial little git.

He did knock first, primarily because he wasn’t a savage and… no answer was forthcoming all the same. Just silence. Saren knocked again, louder, and waited, this time counting mentally to twenty, just in case ten seconds hadn’t been long enough. Still nothing. The door lock switched to green and then split as it slid open, revealing near-complete darkness beyond. Even the orange face of the bedside clock had been covered over in an attempt to make it as pit-like as possible. Perhaps he hadn’t processed his escape yet. The light cast by the open door did reveal some details though, namely the heap of blankets dead-central in the bed which he could only assume hid the missing man - buried alive of his own volition, it was a wonder he could breathe under the amount of bedding he’d piled on top of himself. Presuming he was still breathing. “Rix?” No actual answer came but he could have sworn that the pile of bedding moved ever so slightly. It could just have been his imagination but he chose to believe that it was not, despite the fact that there were no further signs of life from the amorphous mound of blankets and duvet. Nothing for it. Saren straightened his back and broadened his shoulders as he took a deep breath. Gave him another second to see if he would stir and- “ON YOUR FEET SOLDIER.” Desolas was significantly better at barking orders, years of practice ordering people around only cementing the opinionated loudmouth instinctual leader he’d always been - but saren'd always maintained that anything his brother could do, he could also. And, sure enough, the heap exploded, years of following any loud enough shout with attention enough to do what polite insistence had not. But- then panicked eyes fell upon him and his mind caught up with his body; Rix relaxed and then slumped again, shoulders dropping. “Fuck d’you do that for?” He still slurred his speech, Saren noted, as he took a seat on the bed again. Or perhaps he was just still exhausted. “I asked nicely multiple times, Rix, and you didn’t answer.” He showed him the plate in lieu of a full explanation. “You’ve spent more than enough time asleep. Eat.” A low growl and his new companion made eye contact with him quite deliberately as he put his feet back up on the bed. “Still tired. Not hungry.” “It wasn’t a question.” The fact that he’d made himself comfortable once more did at least give him somewhere to put the plate down, this only serving to further the growl into a low rumble of discontent. As if he thought he were something to be feared, talons trimmed to their quicks and frame so skeletal from a lack of decent food that he looked like a blanket could best him a fight. “It will greatly worsen your state of exhaustion if you continue to starve yourself, therefore you will finish everything on this plate prior to sleeping again and this time you will set an alarm and come out of your room to be sociable in the morning.” Issuing orders wasn’t something he admittedly had had great practice with but in truth he thought he was being more than reasonable. A grunt answered him, the other turian looking away and then down at the plate of food; accepting defeat or just feigning deafness in the hopes that he could be ignored into going away? He’d be so lucky.

#ask meme #I have a chapter of this. I should post it some day lmao #that or finish the fic first

3 notes · View notes

misfireanon · 3 years

Text

The next morning, Nihlus gets up early to prepare breakfast. The weather outside is still terrible. The storm had lessened during the night, but by the time he got back in bed, it had picked up again, accompanied by a fresh chorus of ferocious howls. Now, hard clumps of snow are smacking against the window like the wind’s percussive accompaniment. He swirls the leftover tequila and drains it in one gulp, setting the flask on the table with a loud thunk. There.

Right on schedule, Saren peeks out from the bedroom, his unblinking eyes pointing from the empty flask, to the plate of gnawed ribs in front of Nihlus, to the six small dishes (and one soup, all proper and shit) laid out for him. Nihlus doesn’t wait for him to begin an interrogation. He spears a cube of the hitherto untouched blue pudding on his talon and slurps it down, raising a browplate at Saren’s frown. “Why don’t you come sit and eat so my hard work doesn’t go to waste? I had to take all this from the deliverybot and put it in bowls all by myself, you know.”

Saren drops into his seat with a grunt. “You turned up the heating.”

“Yeah, because I was freezing my ass off last night. Don’t make that face, I know you can afford it. Heck, you can probably afford to burn this building down and build a new one, legal fees and all.” He looks out at the storm. “You’d be doing this place a favour. I can’t believe there are people who want to live on Noveria.”

“The volus, as a species, are well-suited for these conditions. Krogan, of course, thrive here as they would almost anywhere else. What remains of their culture drives them to extremes.”

Nihlus flicks a mandible. “I mean you, specifically.”

“Only here for business,” Saren says, carefully peeling off a single layer of the hundred-layer loaf and dipping it in an elaborate concoction of ground spices. Nihlus follows suit, except he grabs a good quarter of the thing and rolls it around in the spice, making sure to give the ends a thick coat. Saren begins to sift out conglomerated chunks from the powder, setting them with the bones. Nihlus shrugs. Hey, at least he’d used a fork this time.

“Business requires you to live in a refrigerator?”

“The cold keeps me awake when the paperwork grows dull.” Saren offers him the soup; Nihlus refuses. “I should have changed the settings after you arrived.”

“Does it help you sleep, too?”

Saren looks at him over the rim of the bowl. A whiff of steam obscures his eye. “At times, yes.”

“How does that work, exactly?”

“It’s a habit. After I finally resolved the Virial’s heat dissipation issues, her HVAC system began to act up. Competent mechanics have eluded me.” Saren takes another long sip. “I know you don’t like satusan leaves, but this was a good choice. Thank you.”

It came as a set meal, but Nihlus had picked that particular set from a menu of dozens, so he feels justified to beam with pride before setting his mandibles at a more serious angle. “I think you might need medication more than a mechanic. Spirits know there are enough doctors on Noveria, crooked or not.”

“‘Crooked’ is euphemistic, extremely so, in ways I’d rather not discuss over breakfast.”

Or ever, really. But Nihlus shrugs and reaches for the loaf again. It’s mechanically prepared, has to be; they’d never turn a profit otherwise. It’s also the reason he’d picked this set over the others. Saren had cooked it for him once, cutting a small chunk of meat into dozens of paper-thin slices with a wicked silver knife. Not long after, Nihlus had bought the same trio of knives for himself, though it had ended up collecting dust at the bottom of a drawer, only opened on one memorable occasion for some impromptu surgery.

This restaurant’s offering pales in comparison to those he’d sampled on Tenebrae, and is not even in the same star system as what Saren had made. Still, he shortens the stack, five slices at a time.

Saren watches him eat, his expression blank. The soup bowl is empty, but the other dishes are practically untouched. The blue pudding wobbles as Nihlus takes a second cube. Saren seems fascinated by it, though he soon shakes his head and makes to stand. Nihlus pulls him down by the sleeve.

“I have messages at the console,” Saren snaps. “And need to find a matching shirt,” he adds more gently.

Nihlus raises his hands in mock surrender. “Nothing that can’t wait, right? Besides, all your shirts are grey.” Saren pointedly lays his wrist on his thigh to illustrate the difference, and Nihlus sighs. “It’s an expression. All cats are… Oh, never mind. I just want to talk for a bit longer.”

Saren scowls and the little voice inside his head, who can really be a fucking coward sometimes, mutters: this is how the hotshot Spectre’s life ends, with his mouth full of pudding. Nihlus swallows the food, stuffs the voice down the same pipe, and meets Saren’s eyes. The look is venomous, but it bears no fangs.

“Have you heard about Avitus?”

“Avitus Rix?”

Nihlus nods.

“No. What about him?”

“He’s planning to retire. Gonna get out before he hits his limits, or so he says.”

Saren snorts. “He won’t.”

Listen to those undertones, Kryik, and understand precisely why you should shut up and count your blessings. Won’t even consider it for someone else, never mind himself. In fact, when you wrangled him into civvies -- Nihlus frowns, his stomach fluttering. The voice is drowned, though it’s trying to claw its way back up. “Don’t be so sure. Look at you. You’re more of a businessman these days.”

“I have found my limits.”

“You have? And what’re you going to tell me next, that your plan is to become a broker? A venture capitalist, even?” He chuckles. “Or that you really like Noveria’s weather, and that the alpine regions aren’t so bad during the summer. That you want to settle down here, adopt a couple of baby krogan. Don’t lie to me.”

“That’s a vast misinterpretation.”

“Enlighten me, then. What’s the retirement plan?”

Saren looks at him like he’s a modern sculpture, the one in that Thessian gallery that’s just a solid block of granite. Very dense granite. “The Council and related authorities decide when--”

“The Council,” Nihlus interrupts, “spent three days on an agricultural tax bill for some asari colony, added hundreds of amendments, and just left it on the table for next month. Pardon me when I say that they shouldn’t be the arbiters of our lives.”

“I see you’ve acquired an interest in Citadel governance. Recent?”

“Reluctant. Has its own charms, but best appreciated when I’m no longer slogging through Omega on their behalf, I’m sure.”

“Politics won’t suit you. Perhaps you should revisit the works of those elcor poets you praised not long ago. Your voice brings them to life.”

“Are you saying that I should do poetry readings at local dives for a living? Do they even have those on Noveria? I didn’t think so. It’s all so… modern. Clean and corporate. It stinks here, Saren.” Saren hums his assent. “If you’re trying to correct things, if you think they’re better than the slavers in the Traverse -- well, that may be, but the roots of all evil are the same, aren’t they? It seems futile. And besides, every adoption agency’s going to take one look at your face and hide their babies, krogan or no.”

“I’m only here for business,” Saren repeats irritably. “If you want to announce your own retirement, stop avoiding the topic.”

“Like how you’re avoiding yours?”

Saren glares at him then, and he’s pretty sure the delicate display case behind his skull now sports a couple of cracks. The little voice trapped in his gizzard lets out a squeak, which he quashes by helping himself to a generous serving of the bevelled cake. It’s cold now, but meaty enough. As he drops it into his mouth, he glares right back into those cybernetic eyes. Nihlus won’t be the first to look away. “Yeah, I mean it. Call me cocky, but don’t call me wrong. I worry, you know.”

Saren flexes the fingers of his prosthetic, and clenches them into a fist. Shards of ice are beating relentlessly against the windowpanes. “We can put those worries to rest.”

“Gladly, after you finish,” Nihlus makes a sweeping gesture over the remaining food. “Not sparring when you’re hungry.”

Saren impales some cake with vehemence. “Your remarks on the Council can be interpreted as treasonous.” Nihlus opens his mouth to speak, but Saren holds up his hand, the ugly mechanical hand he’d earned in their service. “It’s important to maintain our reputation of loyalty, especially in these times. We must keep other powers in check.”

Nihlus works his jaw. Need to divert that combustible train of thought to safer tracks. “I get it, Noveria is a bad fit. You could settle in the Traverse instead; that’s a better idea. I’m sure they’d be grateful if you just shot down some pirates from time to time, retired or not. And then you can tinker with the Virial all day long, no distractions, no dockworkers. Plenty of unclaimed planets out there. How’s that for personal space?”

“Nihlus,” Saren whispers, and Nihlus suddenly gets the impression that he is speaking from a great distance, from the future, perhaps, where Nihlus’s earnest pleas can find no echo. From the distant past, back when Nihlus had believed himself beneath the notice of that famous Spectre, the youngest turian ever inducted, and now the longest to hold that post. Those ageless eyes are still mesmerising, though they no longer reflect his face.

But then, then -- he realises that he’s tired. He slinks out from that gaze and gently shakes his head.

“I’ve heard it all before,” he says. You believe you were forged, not born. Saren blinks, and Nihlus smiles. Feels like he spent hours getting Saren into that shirt last night. Under the sterile lights of the dining room, its narrow stripes clash horribly with his differently-striped pants. “I know, it’s okay. But it only means you’ll have time to find the perfect LZ with your Spectre privileges. I’m counting on you, because I’m not making hundreds of decision charts to find a place to call home. Tropical climates only, please. And preferably not like Invictus.”

The shared memory is enough to lift Saren’s mandibles by a precious few degrees. “And if the search is fruitless?”

Nihlus looks outside. What were once icy flakes had turned into dice-sized hailstones, and the window’s noise-cancellation function had automatically engaged itself. So much for the Noverian summer. The gravy around the meat, too, had cooled to an unappetising jelly. He shoves it around with his fork, making a little pile atop the last remaining slice.

“This isn’t half bad,” he replies.

#Mass Effect #fanfiction #Nihlus Kryik #Saren Arterius

12 notes · View notes

skvllbug · 5 years

Note

{ dad, from charly ( even tho i sent one already ) } "Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?! I've been given this 'tough love' too and y'know what it did?? IT FUCKED ME UP!! IT MADE ME DO AWFUL THINGS!! Why I ought to kill you right here and now!!" She is FUMING. "You bet your ass I won't stand for what you're doing. Go eat a dick!"

Send me ‘Dad’ and a question and my character’s Dad will answer it. - Not Accepting

@char-rix

He looks appalled, though inwardly he’s smirking, having zero regrets for what he’s done to G.uzma - and any regret he did feel would solely be due to the damage done to his own reputation.

“One of Guzmania’s friends, I take it? Go on and take the anger you feel towards your family out on me. If I can let my son back in again and again, despite his fuck-ups and his slander, why, I can forgive another young man for acting the same way.”

#transphobia tw #child abuse tw #come at me ( answered asks )#char rix

0 notes

theinsomniacsdnd · 6 years

Text

Session 18: Reunions

Staring up at the horned man in front of her, Savana overcame her shock and apologized, saying that she meant no offense but had previous experience with the Fae. Tam Lin smiled and said he understood, and that was actually the reason he had come to see him, though he was not physically there, and passed his hand through the window to demonstrate. Savana began to flirt with him, which seemed to startle him, but he regained his composure and explained the reason for his visit.

He knew she had contracted to the Archfey Titania and wanted out, he had his own history with her and he believed they could help each other. He assured her that what he was proposing was simply not swapping one contract for another, but he could not say much else since there was a high chance they were being observed. If she was interested she should come to the Foloi Forest and contact the Fae Emissary, who would be able to bring her to him where they could speak in confidence. He could tell her that what he was proposing would be dangerous, so he suggested bringing powerful friends to help. In fact, he had heard that one of her former companions named Ireena Kolyana was staying in Comvos and had connections that could help her.

Savana agreed to come to him and he bid her adieu, his form fading as the luna moth flapped its wings a few times and then flew off into the moonlit night.

Several weeks later, Savana rode into Comvos through the West Gate and took in the City of Crossroads in all its glory. A single one of its ten District across the seven hills within its walls was larger than all of Vallaki, the largest settlement in Barovia, and she was inundated by sights, smells and sounds from all sides. She passed species she had never seen before, including Baltra Lizardfolk, Sorek and an odd humanoid elephant dressed in fine silks lumbered past her.

Following the address from Yevgeny’s letter, she found herself in the Temple District and in front of a two story wooden building flanked by rose bushes. She stepped inside and smelled baking bread and roasting meats, and across the dining room spotted a familiar, slightly greyer head sitting at a table tucking into a stew. She grinned and decided to sneak up on him, weaving her way through the crowd until she was right behind him and put her hands over her eyes with a “Guess who.” He jolted, startled, and his spoon clattered to the table as he turned around and asked Savana what the Hell she was doing there. She smiled and said always she knew she was his favorite, and then looked around at the rest of the surprised faces around the table.

Rolen introduced himself and she playfully flirted with him, joking about how all half-elves had telepathy with each other, and then turned to Tris and tried to convince her that she was half-drow. Salome looked grumpy as always and muttered “Hi” while Savana craned her neck to look up at No, who signed something at her. When she clearly didn’t understand he looked at Tris who translated his greeting as he reached into his bag and gave her an orange. She started eating it to No’s delight, while she glanced at Rix and saw that he was wolfing down food and had his mace buried in a roast turkey, and used it to tear it apart. He looked up briefly and said it was a pleasure to meet her. Impressed, Savana said she would write a song about him and how much he eats.

With introductions out of the way Yevgeny got back to business, mainly what in the Hell she was doing there. She briefly explained her pact to Titania and how she was looking to break it, and Rolen recognized her as a fellow Warlock and showed her his brand, saying he had pledged to The Raven Queen. Over his shoulder, Yevgeny made an obscene gesture to indicate he was trying to get with her in the Biblical sense as an oblivious Rolen tried to recall what he knew about Warlocks breaking their pacts. He didn’t know much, but he recalled that it was risky, and Savana simply replied with a smirk that “Risky” was her middle name, and No piped up to say that Risky was a weird middle name.

Rolen then turned back to Savana and asked where she was headed, and if she wanted company. Curious about their new guest, Salome asked where Savana was from, and she replied that she was a wonderful land called Barovia full of Dusk Elves, even passed out business cards. She explained it used to be a shitty place but they turned it around, Salome asked if it was single-handedly and Savana’s eye twitched a bit, but she shrugged it off and said were also trying to rename it but there was a lot of steps to do that. A lot of paperwork, you know, but they had successfully passed a ban on chaining children in basements. No added that he was cool with chains as long as everyone was willing, while Rolen looked at Yevgeny and remembered that he too was from Barovia and asked how he and Savana knew each other. For reasons known only to herself Savana decided to lie and said they were only passing acquaintances, and Yevgeny looked at her with a cocked eyebrow, wondering what he game was but deciding to see where she was going with it. Rolen, of course, believed her completely.

No then suggested that they go to see Ireena up at the Temple, and their group, now one more strong, departed from the Inn. No paused briefly at the rose bushes out front and gathered a few flowers for later, and as they walked up the Temple steps Tris turned to Savana excitedly and asked if she liked cats.Savana said yes, as long as they weren’t little girls, and let the statement hang there without elaboration. As they walked into the main hall no No picked up the smallest kitten he could find to pet it and Savana pulled out her lute to play some songs for them. A loud, baritone meow met her ears and she turned around to see the giant form of Nicodemus sauntering towards her. She meowed back and pet him, and he seemed pleased as No joined in on the pettings too. As this was happening Rix was sniffing the cats to get their various odors out of curiosity, and No tapped Rix on the shoulder and handed him a flower crown made out of roses. Rix put it on and thanked No, looking a little confused by this strange ritual, and No happily signed “Now you’re one of us!”

At the desk, Dimitrius spotted them and asked if they were looking for the boss, and if so she was out back in her quarters. As they made their way into the back courtyard Savana recognized the red horse grazing there, and went up and put out her hand. Little Boy lipped at and snorted as No went up to the door and knocked the “shave and a haircut, two bits” rhythm. A moment later Tamra opened the door and gently chided No that she was supposed to supply the “two bits” part, then looked at Savana and asked who she was. Again for reasons known only to herself Savana said she was just a traveling bard, while No happily said out loud “this is our friend Savana!”

From inside, Ireena’s voice called out to say she’d be out in a moment. Savana hung back, as if she was trying to hide, but since there wasn’t really any place to hide out in the open Ireena spotted her as soon as she stepped into the doorway, her eyes going wide as she saw Savana for the first time in almost ten years. Ireena ran out and hugged her with tears streaming down her face, and Savana tried to comfort her but saying she completely understood why she had left Barovia and was sorry she hadn’t written. Pulling back to look at her, a tearful Ireena asked what the hell she was apologizing for, because she was the one who had left without saying a word. It had broken her heart to do so, but she just couldn’t handle it anymore and thought she would go crazy if she stayed any longer. Savana reassured her that she held no ill feelings about it and that she was simply glad to see her again. Wiping away tears, Ireena introduced Savana to Tamra, explaining that she was her lover, and Tamra smiled and said this must be the famous Savana, who she had heard so much about. It was good to meet someone from Ireena’s, for lack of a better word, previous life, and Savana replied with a smile that she was glad to be able to meet someone from her current life. Ireena then frowned and asked how she even knew where she was, and looked accusingly at Yevgeny who just shrugged. Savana again lied and pretended to have just noticed Yevgeny but was thoroughly unconvincing.

As they caught up, Tris and Salome continued to pet the cats sunning themselves in the courtyard and Tris declared she was the Cat Master. Rix looked at the large red horse and noticed that he didn’t smell like a regular horse, and went up to him to investigate. Little Boy reached over and lipped at him, just as curious as he was, and No gave him a cabbage that he happily ate. Ireena then asked how she even knew she was there and looked at Yevgeny accusingly. He just shrugged and Savana again lied and pretended to just notice Yevgeny but was thoroughly unconvincing, and Yevgeny just glared at her.

Ireena, now suspicious, asked Savana if she had just come to see her. Savana started explaining about the forest but was vague, and Ireena’s eyes narrowed as she asked what she did this time. Savana said that she needed help to get out of her contract and Ireena agreed immediately, but after Savana revealed that she had been told to contact the Fae Emissary Ireena visibly cringed but still agreed to come. Savana asked why Ireena reacted that way and Ireena explained with the a sigh that the Fae Emissary was a fan of hers, and she had actually had to talk the girl out of taking an Oath of Vengeance because she wanted to be just like her but couldn’t think of anything she wanted to avenge. No overheard and suggested they all go together. The rest of the party agreed, Salome adding that she was down as long as it didn’t involve making deals with fae, and Savana assured them that it wasn’t like that at all, managing a convincing lie because she was Just That Good.

Later that day they loaded up and headed down the road to the Foloi Forest, after a day of travel passing the grave marker of the orc warchief they had helped bury the last time they came through. No left a silver on the marker and Rolen said a prayer to The Raven Queen. No looked at the distant Altan Mountains and sighed, saying that he missed Anan and hoped he was doing well.

After two days of travel they entered the Foloi Forest, and Savana craned her neck to look at the massive trees and the houses of Ariadne’s Rest tucked among the branches. As they walked to the Greenleafs’ house a skunky odor reached their noses as well as a loud “DUUUUUUDE!” and tottling towards them came Brennan, their perpetually baked Tortle friend from Lake Alcmene, with a second, twitcher Tortle in tow. He greeted them and said he was glad to see them again, since things had been going great in Lake Alcmene ever since Okilo and her two assistant golems started cleaning the place up. In fact, business was going so well that he was here to rebalance his chakras, and he’d even brought on his brother Coco to help with the bookkeeping. He gestured to the second Tortle, whose eye twitched noticeably as he muttered that he couldn’t relax because he had too much work to do. Just for fun, Rolen offered Brennan one of his mushrooms and he happily accepted, but as soon as he took it he began to hallucinate that his knife was turning into a snake and freaked out, trying to throw it away from him as he screamed for Okilo to come and kill it. Sighing, Ireena bopped him on the head and using her Lay on Hands ended the drug’s effect, and he sobered up instantly, declaring that was a bad trip and he should just stick to the weed. He said it had been great to see them again and walked off with Coco in tow so they could chill out a bit.

As the smell of smoke faded away, No heard a loud peeping behind him and turned to see four small ducklings running towards him. They stopped at his feet and peeped up insistently at him. Rix knelt down to investigate and quickly reassured the others that he had no intention to eat them, as No picked one up and asked where its mother was, noticing that it still had a bit of eggshell on its head. No tried to walk away from them, but they quickly followed him, and Tris suggested they had imprinted on him. Rolen said, completely deadpan, “congratulations, you are a father” and the bird-hating Warforged felt his heart grow three sizes as he saw how small and helpless they were. He immediately began thinking of names and Savana suggested One, Two Three and Five, and No picked One up to show to Salome and said he couldn’t hate this. Salome took one in her hands and began petting it secretly, while No said they reminded him of Holy Shitballs the Kenku in the Spyte of Darkness, who had gotten his name because after he popped out of his egg that was the first thing Kolero had said and the first thing he learned to mimic.

As everyone cooed over the ducks Rix looked around for medicinal herbs and found some St. John’s Wort, Tansy and Valerian, which he put into his pouch for later use.

As they reached the Greenleafs’ residence Ireena sighed and went up to the door, reluctantly knocking a few times. Minthe answered and greeted them, looking first at Rix and then Savana. They both introduced themselves and Savana complimented Minthe on her name. Minthe chuckled and thanked her, explaining it had been her mother’s favorite herb, and then asked what she could do for them. They explained they were looking for the fae emissary and Minthe went to fetch her daughter, and after a flurry of footsteps the large form of Meliae appeared in the doorway and clasped her hands together as she spotted Ireena, spouting off a long string of fangirling as Ireena stood there with a stoic expression, clearly having dealt with this before. Rix offered her a duckling in this trying time and she gratefully took it to pat as Meliae continued to prattle on about how awesome Ireena was and how awesome it was to see her again. Eventually she snapped out of her excitement and looked at the rest of them, seeing a few new faces.

Rix started to introduce himself and stared up at Meliae, asking if she was of Dragon descent. Meliae looked at her mother and said yes, though she had been adopted by the Greenleafs, and misinterpreted his stare and reached up to touch the flowering branches tied to her horns, asking if there were bees in there again. Rix just said it was an honor to meet her, and after a very long moment of awkward silence Savana cleared her throat and introduced herself and offered to sing her a song, and proceeded to do so to Meliae’s delight. Meliae then asked Savana why they needed her services as Fae Emissary, and Savana explained that she needed to go into the Feywild. Startled, Meliae asked why on earth she needed to do that since most of the time her job involved getting people out of the Feywild, not going into it, but Savana decided to be cagey and only give half-answers to her questions. With a sigh Ireena explained that she had made a pact with Titania, and Meliae, shocked, asked if she knew what she was doing because Tam Lin hated Titania. Savana explained Tam Lin himself had invited her here, and still puzzled, Meliae said she could guide them there and she had a good track record, since so far she had only lost two of a few dozen, though even those two were a bit murky since for all she knew they had only been turned into a plant or something.

Now with his ducks sitting on his head, No asked Minthe if they had seen any mother ducks around since they had found these little ones. She explained that earlier that morning she had actually found a mother duck out back who had been killed by a pine marten, and they had probably been attracted to him since their species grew up to have red and black plumage.

As they spoke about matters both Fae and avian Rix tapped Rolen on the shoulder and asked him what his mushrooms tasted like. Rolen did his best to describe it and handed on to Rix for his own use, but Rix instead took it and added it to his medicine pouch along with the ingredients he had gathered earlier, which he had brewed into a Vial of Musical Breath that made the user say everything in song as magic music followed them in the air. He turned to Minthe and asked if she had a saucepan he might borrow, then went to the hearth and boiled down the mushroom in some water which he added to the potion in order to spike it.

As the sun began to set, they began preparations for their trip into the Feywild and the dangers within.

#session summary

0 notes