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dracolichbitch · 3 months

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"Why did you do that?" for the prompts perhaps? 👀

Ok so this is insanely long so most of it is going to be under a readmore because i'm not totally evil but because i'm a bastard the majority of it is exposition leading up to the prompt LMAO

Anyway here's Dirge my Banite tav and Urami my dragonborn durge from my dead three evil polycule au

There is something that everyone, from wizards to knaves knew, or at least found out before the untimely ends of their lives, and that is if one is unable to perceive danger, even in the darkest moments of night in their sleep, then they will not survive for long. Maybe it was the chill in her tent being driven away by his mere presence that woke her. Maybe it was the rustling of the tent flap. Or maybe it was something less tangible, more metaphysical. His killing intent directed at her. Whatever it was, it caused her to stir and force her aching eyes open despite the burning behind her lids.

What she saw would’ve chilled anyone else to the bone.

The first thing she could pick out was his glowing crimson eyes in the darkness. Two piercing daggers of baleful rage staring directly at her. Next were the scarlet scales marking his body, arcing across his chest like lightning, iridescent and illuminated by the force of his Urge against the rest of his black scales, as she quickly learned was always the case when he had all but lost control. And then her eyes adjusted to the dark, and focused in on the more minute details. The dagger firmly grasped in his hand. The tension in his shoulders. His uneven breathing. Most importantly, how he stood stock still, as if frozen, in the opening of her tent.

Anyone else would’ve been terrified of the Dragonborn. But she knew him, and for most that would be even more reason to be frightened, but she wasn’t most people. Tadpole or not, she still drew off Aylin’s immortality.

Even if he were to strike her down, like he had many times before, she would simply come back.

That knowledge bolstered her courage as she slipped out of her bedroll and rose to her feet. She made sure to approach him slowly, as though not to startle him, even though she knew out of the two of them, she was the one who should be afraid. She took a step closer, and then another, and then she was chest to chest with him, nose to nose.

She reached up gently and placed her hands on his bare chest.

“Urami… It’s ok.” She whispered, both for his benefit, as well as to avoid the risk of waking the others. He hadn’t told them of his urges, and thus neither had she. Though she kept much of what she knew about him to herself thus far in an attempt to explain things slowly, she had quietly revealed she was well aware of his urges, and promised to help him deal with them.

If that meant taking his dagger into her chest herself then so be it.

He recoiled from her touch, staggering backwards out of the tent. All without a word.

It was only now that she’d come closer that she noticed what she couldn’t at a distance. His eyes were open but he wasn’t awake.

The fact that he’s able to resist the Urge to this degree even in his sleep is astonishing. She noted as she followed him out of her tent, less concerned for her own safety and more for his. The Urge has a nasty habit of redirecting his knife hand towards himself if he resists for too long. Having shared his bed for so long, she knew that better than anyone.

Urami didn’t look at her, and certainly didn’t say anything to her as he stalked away from her tent with renewed vigor in his step, and it only took a moments glance around to realize whose tent he was going for.

That bard that just showed up. Well, at least its not anyone important. Dirge noted as she was quick to cast a silence spell around the tent and the area around it. It wouldn’t do for the screams to alert anyone else in camp.

She watched Urami slip inside the tent, and waited.

She didn’t have to wait for long. She was well aware that when suppressed to this point, simply killing wasn’t enough to sate the Urge. Now, it wanted to play.

Alfira crawled out of her tent on her hands and knees, jaw working soundlessly as she tried to scream, tears pouring from her bright, glowing eyes. One hand clutched her abdomen as she struggled in futility to get away from Urami.

Urami who wasn’t far behind her. He slipped out of the tent in a single fluid motion, and Dirge knew that even without her silence spell, he wouldn’t have made a sound. He watched Alfira try to crawl away, try to struggle to her feet, but with a swift kick to her side, he rolled her onto her back instead before kneeling in the dirt beside her, his dagger at the ready.

As a necromancer, Dirge had done her fair share of dismantling bodies only to put them back together, but her skills with a blade couldn’t hold a candle to the sheer ease with which Urami wielded his and took Alfira apart. He moved with brutal, methodical precision that came from years of experience, and even if Dirge had a change of heart and wanted to help the poor girl, not even her skills could’ve saved her.

It was only when Alfira’s flailing and twitching ceased, and Urami relaxed, that she approached him. She knelt down in the blood and dirt of his murder and wrapped her arms around his chest, hugging him close. She rested her head against his back in the space between his shoulders and sighed softly at the heat pouring off him, driving the chill of the night from her bones.

It was over. It was done. There was nothing left to it now except to clean up the mess, and she was nothing if not good at manipulating dead bodies.

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

Rivers of blood deep enough to bathe in and a throne of skulls haunted his dreams, as well as the dark, lifeless eyes and pale corpse of Dirge, and as he began to stir, he feared his dreams had become reality as the first thing he noticed as he breached into the waking world was the thick, cloying scent of blood and fear. The second thing he noticed was the sticky wetness coating his hands and clinging to his bare skin. It was only when he forced his eyes open and saw the body before him that he felt the first heavenly scraps of relief.

It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Dirge. It was that tiefling bard whose name he never cared to remember. A deep shuddering sigh of relief escaped his chest.

He didn’t know what god to thank for this, so he’d settle for thanking all of them.

“Are you awake now?” Soft as fresh fallen snow, Dirge’s familiar voice whispered from behind him.

It was only now that he felt it. The tightness of her arms snaked tight around his chest. The warmth of her body pressed against his bare back. The gentle brush of her breath against his scales.

His heart twisted in his chest as he took it all in, as he silently basked in the feeling of her pressed against him. Fear and confusion afflicted him though, and there was only so much comfort he could take from the way she held him so close as his eyes lingered on the corpse in front of him.

What have I done? Does she know? Is she aware? She has to. There’s no way she doesn’t. So why is she holding me like this?

“I don’t… What is…” He struggled to give form to his thoughts and turn them into verbal words. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the body even as his mind repeated the same words over and over again.

Sheknowssheknowssheknows.

Dirge shushed him gently, and tightened her arms around him. Without warning, she ran her fingers down the center of his chest, right over his sternum in a gentle stroke.

Despite himself, he relaxed under her touch.

“It’s alright. Everything is alright.” She whispered against his skin, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that soft sensation he felt against his neck was her lips brushing the sensitive skin. “But if you’re awake now, lets get this cleaned up before the others awaken and see what has happened.”

Urami swallowed hard even as he nodded and turned his attention back to the corpse in front of him. Bits and pieces were strewn everywhere and the blood was soaking his pants from where he knelt by the body. Judging from how wet and sticky he felt all over, he assumed he’d gotten the gore all over him.

Slowly he rose to his feet, and it was only when he did so that she pulled away from him. The moment her arms left him, and she stepped away from his body, he felt a tingling coldness in her absence. His scales itched in protest of her touch disappearing, but he made no move to scratch them or alleviate the feeling in any way. Not when he didn’t fully understand it. Instead he turned to face her, only for her to come around him anyway to inspect the body.

Between the dying light of the fire in the center of the camp and the moonlight streaming from the sky, there was plenty of light for him to see by, but despite that, in the darkness of the night, her deep blue eyes appeared solid black.

It was only after a moment’s examination of the body that Dirge straightened up, and while he expected some manner of fear, or perhaps disgust to cross her face, she seemed entirely unbothered as she raised her arm, and her eyes glowed with an eldritch green light as she focused her magic.

Urami didn’t have to guess what she was doing. He knew enough about necromancy to gather that she was reanimating the body.

Sure enough, just as he suspected, the murdered tiefling picked herself up off the ground, rising to her feet as easily as if she’d just woken from a midday nap, and as if she were merely gathering up her belongings, the tiefling gathered up her internal organs in her arms before striding out of camp.

Urami watched her go with impassive eyes. He knew he should feel some sort of guilt for killing her, but inside he felt nothing. Nothing, save for relief. He was glad it was her, and not someone else. He resisted the urge to flicker his gaze to Dirge.

Yes, it could’ve been so much worse.

Dirge remained silent as they watched the tiefling leave camp, and it was only when she was out of eyesight that the glow left her eyes and she lowered her hand. Now, she turned to him.

“Now that that’s taken care of, let’s get you cleaned up. Even without the body, the others will probably still question the blood, and it’ll be for the best if you’re not covered in it.” She whispered before gesturing to the stream running alongside their camp.

Slowly, not trusting his voice just yet, he nodded to her words and followed her to the stream. He hesitated at the water’s edge for a moment, staring into the water painted inky black by the night’s darkness before slowly taking the first step into it. A shiver ran up his leg and through his spine at the icy cold water, but he forced himself to take another step, and then another until the water was waist deep. Slowly he turned, and was surprised to see that Dirge had followed him, though she appeared to handle the cold of the water far worse than he did, judging from the tremble in her shoulders.

Still, she didn’t let that stop her from wading out to meet him. She gazed up at him with an unreadable expression once she stood in front of him, and while he couldn’t pick out what she might be feeling from her furrowed brow and strange softness in her dark eyes, he got the sense that whatever it might be, it wasn’t fear.

He couldn’t help how he stared down at her face, taking note of every curve of her face, every stray freckle dotting her temple, one along her jaw, two side by side on her left cheekbone. He committed every detail to memory as if it would be the last time he saw her.

Silently, she began to wash the blood from his body. First the splatters across his chest.

Uncertain as to what to do with his hands while she cleaned him, they ended up resting on her hips. The tips of his claws dented the soft surface of her skin, but he was careful not to press further and draw blood. The very thought of her blood adorning his hands sent a jolt of revulsion through him, a notion the Urge seemed to reject as well.

“Why’re you doing this?” He finally found his voice just as her hands reached up and cradled his face between them, being mindful of the jagged spikes lining his jaws.

“Doing what?” She whispered back as she wiped away a smear of blood from the corner of his lips with her thumb.

With a tense glance back at the slumbering camp, he avoided her eyes. It was hard when he could feel her gaze burrowing into him like a nest of maggots writhing through dead flesh.

“Helping me. You know what I’ve done. If you were smart, you would’ve roused the rest of the camp to deal with me, rather than hide the body and clean up the evidence.”

Her hands stilled against his face, and when he risked a glance back at her, she was frowning.

“I would sooner slit all their throats in their sleep than allow any of them to lay a finger on you, Urami.” She whispered, and though she kept her voice low, there was no hiding the rage in her words.

Urami stared down at her, his grip on her waist tightening almost absentmindedly as he tried to suss out the truth from her expression.

“Why?”

Dirge didn’t respond. Instead, she bit her lip so hard it bled, and as the deep red turned black in the darkness dribbled down her chin, he found himself wondering what it’d taste like.

Almost unbidden the ghost of a memory of dark chocolate and mint came to his mind, so strong, he could almost taste it on his tongue.

Before he could stop himself, he was asking again, “Who are you? And who am I?”

Dirge licked the blood from her lips.

“Like I said, I’m a servant of Bane. You’re a servant of Bhaal. As the Dead Three remain allied, so do we.”

Urami stared down at her silently. She was lying. At least a little bit. She had to be. He didn’t question her further even though he couldn’t get the words out of his mind.

Then why do I know what you taste like?

#bg3 tav #bg3 durge #tav x durge #my writing #thanks so much for the prompt romeo! it gave me an excuse to write this scene thats been living rent free in my head for two months

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