Tumgik
#but yeah but yeah god i love men who wear rings and bracelets and paint tjeir nails so im becoming my own bisexual dream boy <3
dogboytits · 3 years
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I have GOT to get more tackey bracelets and rings
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shortstories-whynot · 6 years
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I lie. I lie a lot. Lying is my crutch. It holds me up, despite life’s efforts. It helps me. Until I met you.
The only thing to match your persona would be the sun. Bright, warm, yet striking and damaging in certain conditions. You lit up my life, but caused me harm.
I didn’t notice it in the library. The yellow sundress distracted me, along with all of the men who passed your reading nook. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I browsed a nearby shelf. As the dust filled my nose, I regreted wearing my itchiest nose ring that day. Even though I wasn’t paying attention to the books, one caught my eye. “The Memoirs of a Minority,” was glittering in gold on the spine. It was way heavier than I expected. A chorus of shushes echoed the thump of the book on my foot. I was trying not to scream from the 10ish pound book crushing my leather boots when I heard it.
“May I help you with that?”
The delicate voice behind me seemed to belong to…
Oh no.
Not her.
She-
“May I?”
I snapped out of my embarrassment induced trance and finally replied:
“Yeah, sure.”
Lifting the book with ease seemed somehow fitting for her. Her flower bracelets jingled against my black ones when she handed it to me.
“Don’t drop it this time, alright?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She chuckled. Light and airy. I wish mine was like that.
“Well, since you were the damsel in distress, I guess it’s you duty to give me a token of your appreciation. A phone number perhaps,” her eyebrows raised in anticipation.
“Alright,” I felt like a total idiot, standing there looking punk, yet blushing. “250 528 2189.”
Her handwriting was neat and tidy, elegant and graceful.
“I’ll call you, okay?”
“Okay.”
She placed her bag on her shoulder, and flounced by me, letting me smell her vanilla perfume in the process. All eyes were on her, but as soon at she was out of sight, they pivoted to me. Shit. Did I mention I have social anxiety?
“She’s just my girlfriend. She likes to embarrass me in public often.”
Lying. Damn I need to stop that.
I checked out the book, and hurried out as fast as I could.
——
My phone interrupted my reading experience. God I love this book, I thought, so who dares call me right now?
“Hello?”
“Hello…” My voice was sceptical.
“Is this the punk girl from the library? The one who dropped the book on her foot?”
“Yeah.”
Social anxiety sucks.
“It’s me! The one you gave your number.”
Yeah, I thought, I know that.
“Oh hi! I didn’t realize!”
Liar.
We talked for hours. Her name was Lily, and she loved to talk. The worst part: she’s good at it.
“…so then my dog goes ‘Ran I rave a reet?’”
“Oh my god, Lily! That’s so funny!”
Liar liar, pants on fire.
“I’d love to get to know you better.”
Oh shit.
Is she…
…asking me out?
“I’d love to, too!”
For once, I tell the truth.
After 15 minutes, we’ve got it all figured out: a walk in the local park, and a picnic.
I’ve got a date.
——
It went well. That’s all I’m going to say. Well, one more thing: she wanted to go again! Of course I said yes, who wouldn’t?
This time, we’re going rollerblading, getting drunk, and laughing our heads off.
——
It pretty much went exactly like I had thought it would. We rollerbladed, got drunk, and laugh a shit ton. Except, when I dropped her off at her apartment, she kissed me. Straight in the lips. Just a kiss and a door in the face.
I couldn’t wait until the next one.
——
We went on dozens of dates, until I invited her to my apartment. I cooked (a feat in itself), and she loved it. She loved it so much, she kissed me again. And again. I’m gonna cut the next part out due to the NSFW content.
I loved her.
——
We went to pride, covered ourselves in rainbows, and held hands in front of haters.
“I think I want to spend eternity with you.”
The truth. I’d been lying so long it was weird to hear it come out.
“I think I want to spend eternity with you.”
My blushing blended with the red in my face paint.
——
The rest of the story ends with the classic, “they got married and lived happily ever after.”
That is, up til the idiot with the car.
Now you are gone, my sunshine dimmed. I miss you deeply, my only friend.
So you deserve the truth.
About everything.
So here it goes.
I’ve never stopped lying in my entire life.
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Prompt #1
So. Lets combine Soulmate "first words on the wrist" style, with Dungeon and dragons.
- I like the idea of lichdom being akin to TaaaaaZ's style of liches. More spectral, able to possess things, if you have a spare body you can inhabit it. Most of the time, the transformation from mortal to lichdom ends with its soul anchored onto something. More often then not, this is knowledge. Its why so many liches are labeled under the evil category, because logic can be cold when its left alone. But also, most of the time, wizards that turn to lichdom do so out of a search for knowledge. And in turn, that knowledge is what they anchor onto, leaving them with only knowledge to run off of. My boy? Nah homie he went the chaos route. Without a flesh suit, he's anchored himself onto emotions. Which is like, while its going to keep you sane much, much longer, its also going to be an absolute BITCH to control most of the time. He runs entirely off of emotions, and it takes a lot not to be what you think of when people compare others to water. Always changing, always turning. He has NO control over that. Anyway, he also just has a hard time thinking straight (Which like same) as a lich. So until he gets back to his body, he's going to be rambling nonsense.
I'm aware this is not how lich work in actual DND. I do what I want.
- As for soulmates, I'm more fond of the idea that soulmate isn't inherently romantic, so much as it means that it will be someone important in your life. More over, for an au like this one, you can have multiple soulmates, either romantic, platonic, ect ect ect. So it's like. Your soulmate isn't guaranteed to love you. After all, love takes work and time, and effort, and sometimes fate just doesn't guess a personality right. However, no matter what they will come into your life. Somehow, somewhere. And they WILL impact it. And thats the important part. (That said, you know this beotch a SLUT for shipping, come AT me with that shit) Oh, also I like the idea that the sentences on your skin evolve to fit the words you know. So babies down have much but like, a line. Toddlers will have broken up words and phrases, younger kids will be more simplistic. Though, about by the time most are 13, their full statement should just about be there (Unless, you know, somehow the soulmate drops a word they wouldn't know until that exact moment)
Finally, Slight warning. The main plot of this rp deals with a Atropals, which is like literally a god fetus that's been aborted. So like, if you're uncomfortable with that kind of enemy. Whoops
Anyway, that world building and warning aside. So, who thinks that a good way to "stop a not so all the way there ex from resurrecting a dead god fetus to raise it to it's true potential" is by becoming a lich and working entirely on your own because involving anyone else might get them killed, but also you don't feel so bad about getting YOURSELF killed. Well. Certainly Thales Depressed Ass.
Notedly, he's a LOT more finicky when he's not attached to a body. He either has a one track mind, or his mind is all over the place. Once he's back in is body (and while he is able to leave it) He acts a lot calmer, and far more collected. But he's still kind of, new to this lich thing? Like you know those liches that have been at it for at least a hundred years and have their shit together and just kinda wanna devour souls? Yeah no that ain't him, he's been at it for a year and a half and he is ALL over the place. However, when he has a body to possess? All of his stats went into like, Intelligence and Charisma. Dex and Wisdom got like a little more. Constitution and strength?? Oh no. Oh noooo....
He's a fuck boy. Just like, a fuck boy that can die multiple times, so.
In his human flesh suit, Thales is 6'2, with smooth long hair about down to his mid-back. He has a tendency to lean twards glam fashion over anything else, because whats the point of having magic if all eyes aren't on you? Paints his nails, hairs always in a different style, deffo has at least four or five rings on the same finger sometimes. Would in fact wear the wizard hat. Lich wise.. its as I mentioned. Think more, spectral skeletal figure mixed with dementor, type of deal. His magic is silver based, so I imagine his spectral would end up leaning to the same. Have the like, bright red eyes though, and keeps that distinct skeletal figure.   He has a twin brother that he ditched, that probably will end up becoming relevant sooner over later. That chump is fucking pissed.
As for the character type I'm looking for.. Species and gender wise? I'm not picky. Personality wise? I'm kiiiinda leaning to characters that are more on the chaotic end of the spectrum? Like. Maybe not ENTIRELY assholes (though I love asshole characters and would never dare to deny them) but you know. Characters that got a little umph to them. Maybe some with just as questionable morals. That said, this is /not/ set in stone. The idea of this Chaotic Neutral Gremlin getting paired up with some Lawful Good chump thats just standing there HOLLARING as he grows ANOTHER body is also VERY appealing to me. So. Hm, Guess I'm not picky about personality type either then, just something that can be amusing.
Also, your character can have as much or as little an idea of whats going on with this situation as you want. Did they start snooping where they shouldn't have?? Just kind of pick the wrong guy to argue with at the bar? Kicked out of the Cool Kidz Cult for necro-crimes? All up to you, world is your oyster. Ect Ect Ect.
Theres a line of gold on his wrist.
It matches his brothers perfectly. It's not something he questions, for the longest time. You don't question the freckles on your cheek, nor the color of your eyes. It was something that was just /there./ It was apart of them, and to question its existence wasn't even an offense, so much as unthought of.
He points it out to his twin one day, when he realizes that no one they've met has one quite like theirs. It's basic, for all intent and purposes. Just a bold line of gold, shines against the light like a bracelet. Like paint, even. "Ma doesn't have a band around her wrist," He says, as he traces the line in his own skin, "'Lae don't either. I think it's just us."
Their mother answers them with a smile when they ask. "Well, You were always together," She points out to them, as they hold out their wrists to her pointedly. She gives them a small smile, and carefully holds each of their hands, "It's never been important, for you to know what you'd say to eachother. It's simply important that you know it's there. And well.. There you are," She lets go of their hands, lets a soft breath out, "People love to talk about the bonds of family, but its rare for family to actually be bonded by fate. Don't ruin what She gives you, boys,"
Their mother was smart, and they were not. So they nod along, even if they don't fully understand. And it takes them years to truly realize what she meant.
~~
Theres a red one on his wrist, snug carefully under the golden line on his wrist. Its crimson, and brilliant, and he finds himself mouthing the words to himself time and time again.
His brothers has a very ugly word on it, according to their tutor. He blinks at it time and time again. "I'm not even sure how you know that word," His tutor frowns, then - "Ah Right. You're Kioko's children. Your mother should take more care to watch her mouth around the two of you."
"Ah, you're that motherfucker that the word has been about as of lately around?" His mother laughs herself silly at his brother's bond, when he asks. Sticks his arm out right to her. It's obviously not fully formed, the words are simple, still changing. But the swear stays thick on his arm, and she tells him not to repeat it with a pat on the head.
He rubs his own at night and wonders about it till dreams take him away.
~~
He dates a girl when he's 16, and then a boy when he's 20.
The girl, she's beautiful. She had these beautiful, teal eyes that just lit up when she spoke about something she loved. She had a passion for hammers, knew how to swing a punch. He'd once saw her deck someone straight across the room. She finds her romantic soulmate because of him, ironically enough. An Aasimar woman, skin bronze that has an affinity for flames. Their first words are
"I know I'm a little drunk right now, but I think I just saw an angel." "You shouldn't act so surprised, It's just the alcohol talking."
They've no hard feelings between the two of them, and once or twice they take care to take a job or two together.
The man is more complex. A centaur blessed by the forest in whispers and prayers. His figure is thin and hind reminds him of a dears, and he's eve got these elegant horns to show. He's a bit older then himself, maybe six years or so. He studies magic, all the same as him. Gets lost in his studies and forgets about things easily. He has this beautiful blonde hair, and a hand carved stave, and- Their break up is sloppy, and leaves him torn up for months.
"You shouldn't look at people like that, they might get the wrong idea, lad." (He never does find out how his conversation goes. Maybe he should return to that forest and find out one day.)
~~
He starts researching necromancy not for use, but for archiving.
It's an easy lie to play off of. He wouldn't make the lie too broad an say that the magic did not, at least, fascinate him. And certain spells are easy to incorporate into his magic pool. False life is incredibly handy for when they come across being that see them as little more as targets. Vampiric Touch has given him a sharp heal far more then he'd like to admit, and he finds himself using Circle of Death on men far more menacing then he.
But he keeps himself in the clean. Between himself and his brother? They like to travel. And as he travels, he writes down the oddest, most unique spells he can find in a singular book. He's never been sure what for, not immediately. But maybe one day he'll get use out of it. Maybe one day they'll actually know what to do with it.
They're 16, young, and dumb, and if you'd told him at the time he'd get use out of the most dangerous spell he'd collected he would have laughed in your face. (They separate, later. Some stupid fight over some stupid issue. But he keeps the book near and dear to him, and doesn't let go.)
~~
The third man he dates is by far the most interesting.
By then, Thales is maybe 23. Allsuns... gorgeous. Again, a few years older then him, but thats to be expected with high elves. His soulmate has long since passed, something about a magical accident on the coast line. He laughs it off, tells him that it was a long time ago. Grabs his hand as he tells him not to worry. It should have been his first warning, perhaps. It had always been weird when he'd phrased it like that.
Not to worry.. Not to worry....
But he's always been easy to trick with a pretty face. (Trick wasn't the right word. He always knew, of course, the man was dangerous. It was just easier to ignore when he had such a nice smile to him)
The man is really the reason he really begins to delve farther into necromancy. The push he needed into the pool.
~~
"Did you know there was suppose to be another goddess of fate."
Thales raise an eyebrow in Allsun's direction. They're in a library, reading over some book to dig out Information for the man's latest project. He always told Thales, you'd never believe how much knowledge you can find in the pages of a book. It might not be what you're looking for, but you can apply knowledge anywhere.
And you know. Thales was included to agree. But he was tired, and the book offered him little use. "Odd topic, but I'll humor you. Go on,"
"Not odd at all. In fact, I dare say it to be relevant," the man snaps his book shut, pushes his hair back on his head, "Lady Istus was with child. However, a great sin was cast upon it. Poisoned, if it were, by an overly zelous god. Stricken by grief, she goes to her good friend," A wiggle of the eyebrow, metaphorical air quotes "The raven queen, and begs her to help. So, the goddess rips it from her womb!" He swings his arms up, and Thales can't help but hide a snort into his hand, "Problem solved, right? Wrong! Now they need somewhere to put this child, and-"
"An unborn child to a major god? That's just Her story," he tilts his head, lets an easy grin cross his face, "Try again."
"Im not! Consider it- Perhaps. Perhaps it is, fate, wouldn't you put it? That her child suffers the same route as she," and suddenly, it happens. He'd always been easy to read. The emotion showed best on his ears, and there was nothing more amusing then sitting back to watch But this? This was different. This was serious. It was a tonal shift that might as well have shocked him awake, straight into a new conversation.
"See, the fetus? They needed to put it somewhere. What better place then the lands they rule? It was left to rot here-" he taps the floor with his staff, "not here, specifically. But here, on this plane, on these grounds. And know what? It fuels our fates, Thales. Istus thinks she's in control of our bonds, but she simply records fate."
"No, no. It's spoken to me. It is the one that ties the strings between us and and the gods," there's a pause in the man's voice, and it's in that moment he catches the glint in the man's eye. It's bitter, and numb, and the pretty face that hides his intent is gone. He was serious. The joke was gone. This wasn't hypothetical.
"But it is so, very angry. And instead of rotting, it feeds." Allsun's smiles, and the casualty of it chills his spine.
"/We're/ going to raise a deity, Thales."
Hey.
What, the fuck.
~~
He's use to traveling with his brother, is the thing.
Between the two of them, they're quiet good at getting attention on themselves. Thales has magic that's different from your everyday wizard. Knows how to put his own touch to it. His brothers a bard. His entire job is to entice crowds. And though he doesn't come off as such, his brother enjoys having the attention on him, on stage.
They're good at what they do. Put on shows, make some gold.
Allsun is different.
He uses his words, gathers crowd not by story, but by motivation. He tells people what they want to hear, sways them in his direction. At first, it had been interesting to watch. He'd sit back and scribble in the notebook how the man swayed the last crowd, watch as more people turned their attention to his gaze. Once he begins to hear the poison behind the honey, he knows he can't stay. But Allsun has already planted his seen in the world, and its only a matter of time before he watches it take its root.
And he's terrified as to what this man can do.
~~
Despite this, He stays with him as long as he can.
At first it's easy. Don't show him what you've found, things that could possibly help his conquest. He likes to think he did some kind of damage to it. That he put it off for just a LITTLE longer. But it gets harder. The Allsun quickly finds followers, finds people who gather under word of mouth. It's far faster then he ever expects them to gather, and by then he's no stop to the resources the man has access to.
It's not just Allsun that is dangerous. This, thing. Allsun had been all too eager to explain to concept. Explain what it could DO and how it could grow. He's not an easy man to rattle. Despite this, he doesn't see why the man is so eager to rise such a being. But he knows, if anyone can do it... Allsun can.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. And he is so, incredibly desperate.
He turns the pages of his book of forbidden magic, magic he's collected after years on years of travels through ancient ruins and tucked away cities. Magic only people that have been forgotten by the sands of time would practice.
For now, he runs. Begins accounting for what he'll need.
~~
The spell is not simple.
Of course, anyone could tell you that. If necromancy were easy, if just any ol'chump could do it, then they'd have immortals casually wandering about. He thinks, maybe Mystra made the magic neigh impossible not as a test, but to test the bounds of morality. Ask any who defy the laws of nature, why were they doing it? For what purpose did they have, thinking they could go against the gods and the order of things as they stood.
But he is no simple wizard.
No, no. He's motherfucking Thales Maheras. If anyone is going to become a lich, it is him.
~~
He wonders, sometimes, what his brother is up to.
Bet he found his soulmate by now.
His thoughts linger on it for a moment, but that hesitance does not linger for too long. He had more important things to deal with.
~~
If life is a knit scarf, staying alive is keeping on strings
With every attack in battle, another string is cut. And most of the time, when you fall in battle- Loose all your hp, so to say, the strings are given to death to tie. You're pulled to the next realm with guidance or by force. Or perhaps you're pulled to a new body, if you're quick enough.
However, becoming a lich... it's taking those strings, and wounding it around your soul. Time and time again, until theres no where you can go but here. For that, being a lich is dangerous. Theres nowhere to go when you die, when you truly die. You're trapped to wander forever, or vanish into nothingness.
He finds that, maybe. The idea of nothingness isn't horrible after all.
~~
Lichdom suits him well.
He manages it with far less struggle then he'd imagined he would. The hardest part was getting the supplies. Necromancy was not a cheap class, and he finds himself stealing more then he finds himself buys. He knows, he could possibly turn to his mother for money. Knows that she would not hesitate to send him a couple thousand gold should he ask. Might ask out of curiosity, not out of accusation.
But it feels wrong. He can't ask her for money, something that he'd be using to buy the supplies that would inevitably kill her son. He spends the money on bigger things. A clone pod, a new stave, a new wand. He keeps the stave in his house, a little place on the mountains, where snow just falls and falls. It's cold, its unforgiving, but its private. You need to know where to go to get there. Has a teleportation Circle in place, just to make things a little easier to manage. Getting there is harder then leaving.
Its also, private. Privacy is important, and if people are around to hear his screams, they think its the wind.
But once he has the supplies, its as simple as... following steps. Practicing his magic. Something he's done for years, shoved himself into time and time again. It only takes him a year. Between jumping around, collecting the supplies he needs, practicing the magic he sways, and avoiding men on his trail, it only takes him a year to become a lich. He supposed, if there were anything to be smug about, that would be it.
(When he looks down at the words on his wrist, they've turned black. They're the color of death. He wonders if he's severed his connection with a lover. He wonders if this is his punishment, for messing with fate. He was hoping she'd understand, but.. bah. He has more important things to deal with)
~~
He leaves to find Allsun.
Allsun has grown powerful in two years. Both in influence and magic. He has men to do his bidding, watches him create men to do his bidding. If he's ever felt bad about his necromancy, he knows not to now.
And. It clicks, one night when he's just.. watching. Far enough away not to get caught, but close enough to see. A warlocke. Not a wizard, a warlocke. The man is a warlocke, and he's made a deal with something far outside his pay-range.
Then again. So has He.
~~
He burns through his first new body on accident.
He's lucky. His old body hardly had even decomposed
It teaches him to be careful with the blood and body he carries, however. There could always be another incident. He didn't have control over his powers, and snapping from something like possession to burning
If he lost his body entirely, this would be so, so much harder.
His second body had been slaughtered.
He's foolish, with the second one. Doesn't wait until the third has finished growing to actually start doing shit. He's lucky the process only takes three months. He even considers, for a time, finding another clone pod to bid on- steal. But one was bad enough to take care of.
So, he quietly learns not to proceed with a plan until his body has grown once again. He needs not to be left without a body for three months again. It gives him time to practice his abilities, sure. But it leaves him alone, with no one but himself.
The third
And the fourth is.... Well...
~~
He was killed again.
Allsuns men got to him. He knows, then. Damn, he'd thought he'd been sly, too.
He's patient. Patient enough not to blow his cover, patient enough to linger in a limp body, allow himself to be carried and ditched. It's a long wait. His body grasps desperately for sleep, to leave in a state of ignorance. But he can't let Allsun know about this, his lichdom is the one thing he has up his sleeve. The power that comes with it, is the one thing that he has up his sleeve. And he continues to wait. He allows himself to bleed out. Normally, he'd not suffer the pain that comes with dying so slowly. He'd sever the threads of life that remains, taint his own living body until his soul could rise and lash out on its own accord. But he needs to know there's no one near by. He knows their men will linger, knows it's safer to let himself die a slow, agonizing death.
In a sort of Mccob way, it's.. beautiful. Relaxing, even. Hanging onto the last threads of life, just long enough to feel the way few settles on him. Long enough to feel himself settle into the earth, something he knows very well he will not do for a very long time. His breaths are fleeting, shorter with every passing moment.  
He knows it's nothing more then a calm before the storm, and It's when the last string of life leaves him, does his world turn to flames.
His screech is one of murder, one of absolute hatred and anger. It's absolutely animalistic, and bloody, and filled with a poison he didn't know he had in him until he'd died.
It's hard to keep himself composed. He /doesn't/ keep himself composed. Its moments like this he's envious of those that run on logic, that run with their mind fully in gear. But here? It's a pure show of emotion and power. His rage meets his magic, and together they create a spectacular show of light and flame. It circles around him, dances on the grass and trees, sparking like electricity and dazzling like glitter. It's not entirely harmless, but he takes as much care as he can manage not to burn this body. He's been careless before, and there's nothing worse then needing to slice your skin on a fresh body, just to grow another. The memories of it don't exactly give him control, but it stops him from burning his immediate surroundings to a crisp. And when he's done he's left... Alone. His power falls off of him in waves, a display that was only moments ago a spectacular display now chilling him to the bone (haha.) It falls off of him in waves, trailing off into smoke, which quickly turns into heavy mist. It settles in the ground around him, lingers in between the blades of grass and fallen leaves. But it's harmless, now. Any necromancy taint is minimal, And he's left alone, at the mercy of his own emotions.
...
Except.
He's not alone.  
As his anger dies and the flames fall, leaving him floating there, he actually notices them for the first time They're sitting close enough to him that they couldn't have gotten caught in the cross fire, but absolutely must have felt the heat of it. They look.. terrified? Pissed? It was hard to tell. He couldn't connect dots or emotions in this state, just knew that emotion absolutely should not have been a positive one. His eyeless gaze flickers over them, taking in the sight of them on the ground (broken leg? Bruised body. Possibly beaten by Allsuns men. What the hell did they do to them?)
They speak to him.
He blinks. Everything snazzy he'd thought he'd say in this moment- if his soulmate was the one to speak to him first. It's gone out the window. Something.. Vore. Something about wanting to be tied up. Something FUNNY. He just feels dizzy. Thats hard to manage, when you've no physical form.
"Oh Huh," He says, thoughtfully, glancing down at his own, skeletal wrist. The words are still there, engraved in black under a dusky grey, "You know, I wondered how I was going to tell whatever poor bastard got stuck with me about /this/." A pause, and he doesn't even acknowledge that is on their arm forever, ("Guess that cats out of the bag.") The laugh that follows is sad, and to a degree cruel. He wonders if they've been given a new soulmate yet- Another one. How ironic would that be?
Though, he thinks, perhaps this is istus' way of punishing him for his sins. Not by not giving him a soulmate. By tormenting them, his /soulmate./
Its not something he needs to be concerned about.
He hovers for a moment, glancing down at his own body. The strings that keep his soul tied to it have far since been severed, leaving him without a husk. Its a nonissue. He has another one grown, and he'll have another one soon enough. "Look, as excited as I am to meet my soulmate. Thrilled, really, honestly, like genuinely it's hard to express this right now but- Fuck it. Okay," Keeping his voice from the terror it demands to be is hard, cruel even. He manages, "We don't have time for formalities. We need to leave. I burnt through this body faster then I thought I would," something about that is wrong. He knows, he knows he needs his body. He can't just fight without it.
"Come on, it's not safe." He casts false life on them.
It's no pure heal, but it should fix them up long enough to get them out of here.
(It's a shame. The words "So, what are your thoughts on vore?" Would have been /hilarious/ on someone's arm.)
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