Archive of Our Own

She can’t read his face.

Gale is hardly one to hide his emotions (and poor at it if he tried), but it’s near impossible to discern which of them is winning right now. Rather than subduing them as she often does, he wears them all simultaneously. A furrowed brow, lips that move from a tight line to a crooked grimace while his eyes stare at the ground in front of him but at nothing in particular. He’s stuck in his head, clearly at war with his own thoughts.

Who could blame him? They’d spent over a tenday trying to find another way to stabilize the Orb to no avail. When they’d finally taken the passage in Grymforge, he’d been drenched in sweat, fearing that perhaps they’d run out of time. It should seem a miracle that Elminster had found them when he had and bestowed Mystra’s stasis on it. They should have been elated. Perhaps they would have been…if it hadn’t come with such a price.

No one likes to stare their own death in the face. He dismisses it well enough, I was living on borrowed time anyway, he’d said. Surely it must be different to fight against an inevitable demise than it is to walk into it with the burden of necessity.

Tav wouldn’t know. The only deaths she’s faced are the ones that bloodied her hands; those of necessity that she remembers…and those of pleasure that she doesn’t.

Their party trudges on in mostly silence, the weight of Gale’s charge as well as that of the journey they’re about to face hangs thick in the darkening air. Even the torches in this tunnel struggle to hold their light. Have they reached the Shadow-Cursed Lands already?

At the head, Karlach and Lae’zel push aside the heavy metal doors at the end of the stagnant corridor. A corpse in Absolute regalia watches with empty eyes as it leans against the wall, spent smokepowder scattered about their legs. It’s mouth hangs open, as if in silent warning they should turn back.

Not that they’d listen to a cultist, anyway.

Beyond the door is a sprawl of endless night. Grey roads and grey trees twist about one another, nearly indiscernible at times. As her bootsteps transition from hard stone to soft dirt, the shadows encroach almost immediately. Tav is hardly unaccustomed to the dark. Though she remembers little of her life before the tadpole, the familiarity of their journey through Underdark made it clear she lived there for some years of her life. This darkness, though…it’s different. Halsin’s description of the Shadow Curse was not innaccurate, but she realizes now how difficult it was to put words to at all. The feeling of oppression in mind and body is unmistakable, even if your senses can’t truly see a source. 

“This place makes the Underdark look quaint,” she remarks to no one in particular. 

“Best we don’t linger here any longer than necessary,” Gale replies anyway. As their party moves on, she finds herself looking to her torch as often as she watches her surroundings, as if the darkness alone can choke out the flame and leave them vulnerable. Only Shadowheart’s cantrip of Light seems steady. They follow her like moths down the empty, eerie trails. No birds sing, no insects buzz, no rabbits rustle in the brush. Only snapping twigs and the whistle of the wind occasionally break up the heavy silence.

Until they hear shouting up ahead…”Yonas!” 

—

Her blades slice through the shadow with surprising efficacy. Whatever these creatures are, they have some sort of physical form that can be destroyed. She takes comfort in that, knowing she won’t be useless in a fight while the magic-users are forced to take the brunt of the battles. How strange it feels to “kill” something that has no life, no blood of it’s own. The only fluid coating her skin is her own sweat. 

Disappointing. But there will be time for killing later. She may not yet know what lies in wait for them at Moonrise Towers, but she’ll bleed them all the same. The more she kills, the more tolerable her Urges are. Better to kill a thousand cultists than to slaughter another like Alfira again…

With a heavy exhale, she sheathes her daggers at her belt as the Harpers (what’s left of them) offer their thanks to Wyll. More importantly, they offer a location. One not consumed by the curse. It sounds too good to be true, if she’s honest. But they’re in no position to turn down help. Powerful as they are, there’s an army of cultists waiting for them, and it’s not just goblin thugs if their intel is right.

As the Harpers dash off to their next mission, the party regroups to recover from the battle. Tav perches on a higher rock, gazing down into an abyss-like chasm beyond. What was there before the Shadow Curse fell, she wonders? A shimmering lake? A grove of wildflowers? A marginally less-dark chasm? 

She hears Gale’s distinct footsteps behind her even before he takes a seat at her side, feet dangling over the edge above the dark canyon below. “You know, it’s quite thrilling…to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us.” A pause as he smiles at her. “Especially being at your side.” Her own lips curve up in response. Ever the optimist, he is. Why focus on what’s ahead of him when he can enjoy what’s in front of him?

That smile shifts a bit. Not to sadness, but almost to…bashfulness if she’s not mistaken. “I , uhm, once read a book that explained in some detail the effect a brush with danger has on one’s desire for…other forms of stimulation.” His shifting gaze locks on her again, trying to gauge her response. “Have you ever read…anything on that subject?”

Tav can’t help but chuckle to herself. For all the confidence and charisma that carries his words on the regular, it’s rather endearing to see the blush on his face when he flirts. “Even in a place like this, you’re drawn to me?” The sultry grin on her face puts him at ease, the confidence slipping back into his words.

“I can’t imagine anywhere that could turn my heart from you, cursed or otherwise. You’d always be as beautiful…and as impressive. You never look so ravishing as at the end of a stirring battle: your cheeks flushed, gaze bright, muscles glistening…” 

Honeyed though his words may be, she knows they’re genuine. She can spot empty flattery a mile away with the way it bristles her agitation. Hells, even those who mean what they say set her on edge. Somehow, though, the wizard has wormed his way into her heart in a way that she welcomes his affections. There is something…intoxicating about being praised by him. Some might call it a beguiling charm, but those effects wear off. She’s felt this intimate pull for tendays, and it hasn’t waned…only grown.

Tav straightens her back, shoulders squared back and chest lifted. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? And here I thought I was the one who got a rise out of battle.”

He laughs softly, shrugging his shoulders. “Perhaps it’s just the thrill of our near-undead experience talking…But fighting at your side through such darkness and disrepair,” His eyes latch onto hers, holding her captive. “It only makes me want you more.”

A warm shiver cascades down her limbs, anticipation a greater tease than she could ever be. With the Orb’s instability, their relationship had been forced to stop at romantic feelings. There was too much risk involved with romantic action. She hadn’t even kissed him yet. Perhaps there was a boon to be had from their recent developments. Were there any beds at Last Light? It stood to reason, but she’d take a closet at this point.

Lips still pulled in a smile, she turns her head to the black sky in mock contemplation. “You know, I haven’t read anything on the subject recently…but I do have vague memories of some rather informative diagrams.”

“Do you?” He seems a bit surprised. “Perhaps we could…pool our knowledge, then. No sense in letting valuable first hand experience go to waste, after all.”

Tav laughs. A rare, hearty laugh that even draws a curious glance from a few of their companions further down in camp. Leave it to him to use books to seduce her. She can’t remember the last time she’s laughed like that (save for when Filro cast Tasha’s Hideous Laughter on her by the Sussur Tree, but that’s neither here nor there). Brief as it is, it leaves an unfamiliar flutter in her chest, even in this oppressive darkness.

“Come on, you lovebirds, we should get moving,” Karlach calls, playful despite the urgency. “Best not to sit around here and wait for the Shadow beasties to make a meal out of us.” She adds something about ‘if that’s even what Shadows do…what do Shadows eat, anyway?’, though it’s muffled as she turns the other way. Gale rises to his feet and offers her a hand half a moment too late, as Tav is already halfway to her own. As he pulls it back, she reaches out and wraps her fingers under his bearded jaw, gentle yet firm. He freezes, gaze held as much as his chin, his rapt attention on her as she leans in close. 

“I often find the best tricks are the ones that aren’t written down,” she grins, voice low. “Better if I show you~” His larynx bobs against her hand before she pulls it back and turns to follow the others, Gale moments behind.

He’s not the only one itching to get under the sheets.

It’s shocking how close they had to get to the glowing dome of Last Light before they could see it. She’d wondered how such a haven could go unnoticed by the cult, but short of having exact directions or incredible luck, they wouldn’t have found it either. After the run-in with Jaheira (and Karlach’s giddy excitement over it), they find refuge at the dilapidated inn. Karlach and Lae’zel have gone to Dammon’s forge to commission metalworks. Astarion has no doubt gone lurking for some living soul to feed on in this land of death. Halsin and Wyll attempt to aid a man mumbling an off key song surrounded by flaming fists. Shadowheart talks to Barcus about some sort of witty comeback he’s working on. Rolan drinks away his frustration and sorrows at one end of the child-tended bar while Tav nurses her own tarnished goblet of klauthglass-free Esmelter Red at the other. Gale offers some words of assurance to his fellow wizard, only to be vehemently berated for saying anything at all. Though he retreats, he seems unfazed as he takes a seat at the bar beside Tav. 

“I’m not sure you deserved that,” she remarks dryly.

Gale shrugs, brushing it off as easily as one would a leaf from their shoulder. “Perhaps not, but we all have our own ways of grieving. I can’t fault the man for being distraught over his missing siblings, particularly not when he feels responsible for their safety.” 

Fingers spidered around the rim of her glass, she twirls it idly. A mirthless huff precedes her response. “I’m the one who convinced them to stay in the grove,” she muses. “It’s probably me he’s cursing under his breath while he’s yelling at you.”

An amused breath leaves his lips as he accepts his own glass from Umi. “That did come up in his outburst, now that you mention it. I suppose this counts as me forwarding his message to you, which he was also rather adamant about.”

“I suppose I’ll need to make it up to him when we raid the towers then,” she remarks. “Assuming we’re not too late. Who knows how long they keep prisoners alive and untadpoled.”

“Ever the pragmatist,” he hums. “You’re not wrong, though. The tieflings had nigh a tenday’s head start before we ended up here. We should hope for the best but prepare for the worst.”

She taps the rim of her glass as he speaks, the rhythm growing faster. Despite where there conversation currently is, she’s preoccupied with something else…and so it takes a sharp turn. “You shouldn’t use the Orb.” The words spill out of her lips before she can think better of them, but it’s all that’s been running through her mind since yesterday. “We don’t know what the repercussions would be. We don’t even know what the Absolute is yet, let alone if blowing yourself up would destroy it. And the collateral…”

“Whoah, easy now,” Gale interrupts, hands up in patient defense. “Nothing is set in stone just yet. I understand your hesitation, truly I do. I have hesitations of my own. But I can’t simply dismiss the solution out of hand. Mystra seems to believe it’s the simplest solution to Faerun’s problems, and far be it from me to question the wisdom of a goddess on the matter.”

“It’s too simple,” Tav argues, staring down at her unbloodied reflection in the blood-red wine. “Simple solutions to complicated problems don’t pan out the way the gods might like to think they do.” It’s easy for a god to sacrifice a few hundred or few thousand lives to preserve the world as a whole: They lose nothing in the end. Tav has already lost her entire life…though with what she knows of it, perhaps that’s for the best. What she’s not prepared to lose, however, is what she’s gained since then. 

“I don’t want you to do it,” she finally admits. The pragmatist is gone, replaced by that selfish side of her she’s all too familiar with.

His index finger curls under her chin, turning her face upward to meet his eyes. Even in the chill of the dark evernight, the warmth of him never seems to fade. “Let’s see what we’re up against first before we rush into any certainties…But I don’t want to leave you, either.” 

Never mind that he’d blow her up with him, but that’s a discussion for another day. A half smile tugs at the corner of her lips, strained and unconvinced, but not hopeless. She thinks he might kiss her, but they’re interrupted by footsteps descending the wooden stairs to their left.

“Isobel,” the High Harper greets, her tongue hanging hard on the ‘l’. “I see you’ve heard tell of our unlikely guests.” As Jaheira continues to explain the situation to the newcomer, Tav turns to get a glimpse of this ‘Isobel’ person.

The smudging of her dark makeup around her eyes doesn’t harshen the soft features of her face, particularly not when her sweet smile brightens it further. There’s a delicate beauty to her, and an elegance befitting the goddess that she clearly worships based on her clerical robes. So she’s the one Jaheira mentioned that was holding this place together. A regular paragon of light and benevolence.

Tav’s fingers twitch as they clench around her glass, nearly knocking it over. The muscles in her neck and arms tense with sudden anticipation, teeth grit in restraint as she stares wide-eyed, tongue dragging along the roof of her own mouth. The woman speaks but Tav hears nothing but the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears, imagining the trails of kohl running down her cheeks as streams of blood. How delicious it would be to turn that smile into screams of terror as she carves her flesh between each rib, her flesh open like a kua-toa’s gills. Imagine the glorious slaughter that would ensue when this moon cleric’s shield died with her, unleashing the Shadow fiends on the dozens of innocent souls taking refuge in its light~

A firm grip on her arm brings her back from the brink. She blinks rapidly, exhaling sharp as she turns to the source. Gale’s hand is wrapped around her bicep, his brows knit together in concern. “Are you alright?” 

“Is she always like this?” Isobel jokes towards Gale, clearly good-natured in her intent. The Urge within Tav bristles and broils at the thought, but her conscious mind is able to choke it down now that she’s aware of it.

“It’s been a long journey, we’re all a bit on edge these days,” he responds with all the smooth eloquence he’s mastered over the years. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Isobel.”

Thankfully he’s able to stand and take over the conversation, leaving Tav to focus on keeping calm. She thinks of the pleasant memories she does have. The celebration with the tieflings, the night where Gale helped her cast magic….

Hells, there aren’t many good memories to pick through in the few tendays of them she has. Most revolve around her companions, and most of those her wizard in particular.

Before she knows it, a pleasant coolness—one different from the chill of the land—settles over her. There’s a faint glow that seems to cling to her, barely noticeable…like when you’re just beneath the surface of a clear, sunlit lake. It has a calming effect, even moreso than the bubble of protection around the inn.

But it’s not calming enough.

-

There’s not enough rooms at Last Light for everyone, and after her near fiasco with Isobel, Tav volunteers to be one of the few who stays outside. There would be no intimacy with Gale tonight, that was for certain; not when she’s barely in control of herself. What a cruel irony that the Orb is more stable now than she is. 

Best to put as many walls between her and the cleric as she can, especially considering what happened the last time she tried to “sleep” through her Urges. But even in this isolated corner, the thrum of her blood in her ears keeps her from rest. That damn ‘butler’ of hers did this, she’s sure of it. It has to be some sort of curse, or brainwashing, or a control spell when she’s unconscious…

“You called for me, my lady?”

His pestilential voice rips her from any attempt at peace. Tav nearly jumps out of her skin as she scrambles away from the cretin. She grits her teeth, glaring with murderous intent at his gaunt, smirking face. “Stay out of my head,” she growls. How could he hear her thoughts? He doesn’t have a tadpole, or she could sense his in turn. “I was just wishing you wouldn’t come back.”

“Oh! My nauseating lady! Such rudeness is unbecoming of your august station.” Of course it’s like talking to a brick wall…a brick wall that speaks in cryptic half-answers and the exact type of flattery that makes her skin crawl. “I come here to grant you another powerful tithe, but first…you must do something divinely unspeakable.”

“I’m about to,” she sneers, the warning blazing in her eyes. “And I have a perfect target in mind.”

If Sceleritas understands her threat, he ignores it outright. “You will receive a royal prize for killing this pretty girl.” With a flick of his clawed, rancid wrist, he conjures an image of the woman from the inn. “Isobel: the cleric with the sweetest face of the Moon. She is too precious to live.” 

Tav’s stomach turns in realization that her Urge was not a fluke. It was a true compulsion specifically for that woman. But is it Sceleritas who compels her? He certainly hadn’t commanded her to kill Alfira…

“No.” The word drips with venom much like her blades. “I’m not touching another damn innocent. Certainly not on your order.”

“Why, I do not order, my lady. I bring you an opportunity! You have not yet been disinherited, there is still time to redeem yourself and claim your most deserved power.” His honeyed tone is unbefitting the atrocity of his words.

“Not a chance,” she snarls. Her eyes dart towards her blades by her bedroll, her hand inches toward the knife strapped to her thigh. Maybe if she slaughters him, that will stop the Urges. But he’s prone to disappearing. She can’t give herself away.

“Oh, but master. Consider your little mishap with the bard! Your unconscious, clever mind hungers for extreme violence.” Though it starts as some sort of ‘concern’, Sceleritas words take on a terrifying undertone. “Who knows who you might kill next if you do not satisfy your Urge~”

Tav freezes, not liking what he’s implying. Particularly, the implication that he is not the cause of her compulsions after all…and that she is.

That moment’s hesitation is all he needs to slip away. “Be true to yourself, my lady.” And in a moment, he vanishes.

“Damnit all,” she curses under her breath, fists clenched at her side as she kicks her pack. She let him get away. Even if it wouldn’t have stopped the Urges, at least she’d have felt a little better…cutting out his manipulating tongue and ripping out his vile teeth one by one, carving the black pit where his heart should be from his chest and strangling him with his entrails. Butcher him the way she butchered Alfira, but tenfold. At least he’d deserve it.

She spits on the ground where he stood and turns away. Something tells her that even if she had, the little bastard likely would have enjoyed the encounter. The thought only infuriates her more.

“Tav, what has you up and about at such an hour?” On the other side of the fire, Gale groggily sits up from his bedroll. Perhaps she should be grateful the Urge is currently subdued by her anger. Unfortunately, her anger is not so controlled, either. 

“Nothing. Go back to sleep, Gale.” It comes out harsher than she intended.

He quirks a brow at her, confused. “Well, that certainly doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’. Perhaps this has something to do with what happened earlier this evening?” He glances up at the sky. “Or whatever time it is here…”

“I said it’s nothing, so leave it,” she snaps, whirling around to glare at him. The confusion on his face morphs into hurt, and she regrets it instantly. She pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut as she tries to focus on her breathing. It takes a few moments, but some semblance of calm reaches her past the anxieties. 

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, voice softer. “It’s as you said earlier, I’m just…on edge. Moreso than usual.” Her hand drops to her side and she looks at him again, apologetic. “I’m just having trouble sleeping. I can’t even trance properly. The sooner we take out Moonrise and get out of here, the better.”

He nods, offering her a comforting smile. “Couldn’t agree more. But in the meantime, if you need an ear, you’re always welcome to bend mine.”

She nods. “I know,” the smile she offers in return is hardly convincing. But he doesn’t press her. “Get some rest, we have Absolutists to ambush in the morning.”

The goblins were easy kills, the half-orcs take a bit more effort…but the Drider is another story. The brightness of his moon lantern nearly blinds her in this darkness when it swings. Even with their squadron of fighters, it puts up a brutal fight. Eight legs make it fast, cursed blood makes it relentless. Its attacks are so swift and so powerful that even Lae’zel is backed to a corner during the onslaught. Two Harpers have fallen, one is tending to a downed Karlach who took the brunt of the initial attacks. Tav wipes sweat from her chin on her wrist as she dashes back around a dilapidated support beam to avoid the monstrosity’s sword. Of all Lolth’s atrocities…Driders are some of the worst.

But at least they bleed.

Lae’zel goads the creature’s attention and holds him at bay, Harpers flanking. A mote of fire whizzes past its face at Gale’s hand, singing the ends of his stringy white hair. Tav climbs for a higher vantage. She lies in wait in the shadows, waiting for her opportunity. Its back is heavily armored by a carapace, so it doesn’t watch it near as well as he should. When its back is turned, she leaps down, weapon drawn. Her boots land on its thorax as the daggers point drive into the softer flesh at opposite sides of its neck, just beneath the jaw bone. It shrieks in pain, flailing about wildly to shake her, but she holds her knives like an ox’s horns. Whiplash burns white hot in her neck, but she holds fast. Lae’zel and the Harpers rush in and jab at its soft stomach, reclaiming its immediate attention. The edges of Tav’s blades in its neck are faced away from her, all it takes is an easy push to nearly sever the creatures head from its neck. The Drider collapses forward, tangle of legs curling in on themselves as it crumples to the ground. 

Crimson stains her hands as much as the ground, splashing beneath her boots as she dismounts the corpse. Lae’zel jerks her head up in approval. Karlach picks up the Moonlantern from where she sits. Gale moves to stand at Tav’s side, staring down at the nearly headless body.

“I’ve heard tell of Driders, but can’t say it was on my list of desired encounters.” He rubs his hand along his beard, contemplative. “There were times it was simply impossible to hit the damn thing.” He smirks up at her. “You made quick work of it, though. Perhaps it’s not your first encounter with such a creature?”

“Perhaps.” She shrugs, wiping the blood from her blades onto her pants. “I may not have my memories, but the knowledge is still there.” A playful smile tugs at her lips. “Don’t tell Wyll about it, he might try to give me a nickname.”

Gale chuckles in response. “Ah yes. I can see it now.” He waves a hand dramatically across the air, as if indicating an entire landscape. “Tavrin Drider-Slayer, or perhaps…” He falls silent, then shakes his head and drops his hand. “Well, perhaps I’ll leave the nicknaming to the professional,” he hums in amusement, clearly out of ideas already.

They’re interrupted by the soft jingle of a bell, followed by a wave of pale light washing over the party. Stronger, warmer. Tav turns to the source and sees Karlach holding a tiny silver bauble in her hand and a huge grin on her face. “Would ya look at that! There was a pixie in that lantern. I let her out and she offered us protection from the curse!”

Glances of confusion are exchanged for a moment, knowing the goal was to retrieve the lantern, not disassemble it. This, however, works out much better. Trying to stay in the light of a lantern and fight with one was not Tav’s favorite idea.

“We should return to Last Light,” Lae’zel interjects. “The others will be needing this protection as well if we’re to venture further into the curse and find Moonrise, and Karlach is in need of healing.”

Though the fresh blood spilled by her hands has quelled the Urge for now, Tav is hesitant to be anywhere near Isobel again. At least until she can be certain she’s under control again. “The lot of you head back. I’m going to scout ahead.”

Lae’zel eyes narrow. “Do you intend to simply walk into the enemy’s fortress without reinforcements?” Despite her harsh tone, Tav recognizes the githyanki’s unique flavor of concern.

“I walked right into the Goblin Camp, didn’t I?” The goblins took one look at her and stood aside to let her through. Challenging a Drow was not in their repertoire, whether they recognized her or not. “Just reconnaissance. We may need that advantage later.”

Lae’zel jerks her head to the side in acknowledgement, satisfied with that answer. Karlach looks uncertain as she slowly stands, hand braced on the shoddy wooden wall for support. “Well, alright, but you shouldn’t go alone. We should all be using the buddy system out here, those shadow beasties are nothing to take lightly.”

“Not to worry, I’ll accompany her,” Gale offers without hesitation. “Between her blades and my magic, we’ll be able to fend off most any adversary that comes our way.”

“A strategic decision,” Lae’zel nods, voice edging on a bit of a taunt. “I’m sure that’s your only reason. So long as you don’t allow distractions to impede your judgement. Should I stumble upon your corpses come tomorrow, I’ll resurrect you both just so I can kill you myself.” 

“We’ll be fine,” Tav responds, a bit more cold than usual. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

Lae’zel and Karlach nod before running back towards Last Light with the remaining Harpers. Gale turns about and brushes the invisble dust of magic battle from his hands. “Lae’zel certainly has her own way of showing she cares. It’s rather endearing if you think about it.”

Tav gives an empty half smile before turning away and heading towards Moonrise. Or at lest…the direction they believe Moonrise is. Everything looks so eerily similar here. Gale jogs to catch up before falling into stride at her left. There’s a moment of silence before he breaks it.

“That bloodlust is calling you again, isn’t it?”

Tav gives him a sharp look, but it softens when she sees the concern on his face. With a heavy sigh, she closes her eyes and looks back to the path ahead. “I didn’t want to concern the others,” she admits. She can’t quite keep the shame out of her tone. “Or you. If I can just keep my distance, I won’t be able to act on it. It’ll be safer for her that way.”

Gale hums in contemplation. “I suspected as much. When Isobel greeted us, you had a similar look in your eyes that night Alfira showed up at our camp. Though, you were a tad more subtle about it then.”

She shakes her head. “It’s worse this time. Alfira was a surprise to me. I have violent fantasies near daily…” Tav looks at him cautiously, hesitating. Should she admit it? “Even the day I met you…I thought about hacking off your hand when you were in that stone…but I pushed past it. It’s happened with countless others and I was able to swallow it down. I can’t say for sure why I couldn’t do the same with Alfira.”

His brows raise and he blinks. “My, that’s…honest. But I’m grateful, nonetheless.” Gale lifts his hands in a small flourish. “A wizard’s quite worthless without his hands, after all.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he curls his index finger around his scruffy chin. “Though, perhaps we could analyze the situation. What is it about Alfira and Isobel specifically that seems to trigger this feeling in you? Surely there must be some sort of common denominator we’re missing.”

Tav shrugs. “I can’t say. I don’t know either particularly well, but they don’t seem to be similar people.” Again, she pauses, unsure how much of the truth she should admit. He did take her admission about biting his hand off in stride, though. “I know it has something to do with innocence. The more undeserving they are of death, the more it gnaws at me.”

He nods, lost in thought. “That’s a start, for certain. How are you feeling now that you’re farther from her?”

She cocks her head to the side, thinking hard. “Better than this morning, worse than when we arrived at Last Light.” Her blood is still hot, but it isn’t boiling like it was before they killed the Drider. “Bloodletting seems to help, to some small degree. Until today, all we’ve killed since we arrived is Shadow creatures. But they aren’t alive, and they don’t bleed.” A harsh exhale leaves her lips. “Killing the Drider was about as effective as that second magic item I gave you. It helped…But not nearly enough to warrant the risk of being anywhere near her.”

“Well, I’m certain we’ll find plenty of deserving cultists for you to sink your blades into soon enough.” He lifts his hands in a passively defensive gesture. “Mind you, the two of us alone shouldn’t be starting an all-out war upon arrival, but I’m sure you’ll find a few guards or patrols in our way that can slake your bloodlust in the meantime.”

“I hope you’re right,” she groans. They have to head back to Last Light at some point, after all.

His hand wraps gently around her own, fingers threading between hers as he gives a reassuring squeeze. She meets his eyes and he gives her a look, firm but comforting. “We’ll find a solution for this, you and I. I promise you.”

She smiles back, a bit more naturally this time. Her hand squeezes back, and doesn’t let go as they continue deeper into the Shadow Curse.

They’d attempted to make camp in an old, long-abandoned Mason’s Guild, but any fire they attempted to create fizzled out within seconds. Even Gale’s magic couldn’t overcome the Shadows’ ability to douse the light. Something about the Shadow Weave being different from the True Weave, but she can’t make sense of it. While they didn’t need fire to keep the curse at bay, they still needed it to ward off the chill of the night. After backtracking a short distance, they found a set of stone-and-wood ruins that may have once been a blacksmith’s forge, judging by the anvil and stone sharpening wheel on the ground. The fire sputters and struggles to life, but it stays. 

Gale sleeps while Tav keeps watch, arms hooked around her knees as she holds her wrist and stares at the flames. The warmth of the fire should be soothing, but it’s little comfort to her sweating skin and the bile churning in her stomach. Saliva pools beneath her tongue as she tries to focus on the dancing firelight and ignore the insatiable desire for blood that throbs in her skull and fingertips. The fight with the Drider proved to be only a temporary reprieve. She doubts there’s any panacea that will rid her of it entirely, but she needs something to curb this bloodthirst…and soon.

She glances up over the fire to Gale’s sleeping form. He must trust her greatly to sleep near her when she’s like this, particularly with no others around to protect him. A misplaced trust he’ll no doubt come to regret. How easy it would be to pin his hands into the ground with her daggers, rendering him defenseless when he wakes. By the time he ripped them free, he’d already be sliced wide open, screaming for mercy. According to his own projection, she’d have two days to clear the area and get to safety, leaving an unattended bomb in the middle of nowhere and ready to wipe out everyone within miles when they least expect it…

A sharp gasp as she is jolted back to reality. No, not him too. Unsteady breaths ease slowly in and out of her lungs as she tries to think. He’s not safe here with her now, but she can’t abandon him out here alone, either. She can push past this, just like the other times. She has to…

“He thinks he might end the world, but you and I could do far worse.” The butler’s chafing voice echoes behind her and she reels. Flying to her feet, she nearly faints when the corners of her vision darken and flash from the sudden movement. She’s already light-headed as it is, and it takes precious moments to get her balance and her bearings.

Undaunted, Sceleritas’s tone takes on one of pity and disappointment. “You could do so much better, milady.” Her very veins itch with disgust at his chiding.

“If you’re my ‘faithful servant’ as you claim, then you don’t question me,” she growls. Flat-out arguments don’t work on him. If she has to play his game a little to get information, then so be it.

He jumps, and for a moment, she thinks she has him. Of course it couldn’t be so easy, though. It never is. “I am but an eager messenger, from the depths of your depraved thoughts. Even as we speak, your clever mind is penning a tragedy only one such as you could imagine. Your repressed Urge yearns to kill.” He glances at Gale, and Tav’s pounding heart seems to skip a beat. “And kill you will. Tonight, the moment you close your eyes, your favorite person will be brutalized.”

“I didn’t lay a finger on Isobel, and I certainly won’t on him.” While she isn’t convinced by her own words, she compensates for it with adamant denial. “I can control myself.”

Sceleritas shakes his head. “It is precisely because you didn’t touch her that you are insatiable now. Your Dark Urge cannot be denied. It will have death, one way or another. Tonight.”

She has her daggers on her this time and she tears one from her belt, ready to tear the butler to shreds and make his so-called prophecy self-fulfilling. But before she can lunge, his next words send her blood running cold. 

“He would forget his god for you. But you won’t for him, of that I know.”

God? What god? She doesn’t worship any gods. If she did, certainly she’d know about it…wouldn’t she? “What in the Hells are you talking about?”

Of course he provides no answer. “There was much…disappointment at your reluctance to kill the little Moonmaiden. You could kill this one deliberately as a show of good will. The tithe could still be yours~”

“I don’t want your fucking tithe.” She throws her dagger and it hits true, diving deep into where his heart should be. Unfortunately, it does not stay there. It phases right through him and skitters across the dirt. Tav grunts in annoyance. Of course he’s not literally here. There’s no way he could be.

“Do not underestimate us,” she growls, careful to keep her voice low. “We are indomitable together. This will be no exception.” Perhaps if she says it enough, it will become truth.

Sceleritas shakes his head again. “You are wrong to consider another your equal, milady. It is my duty to make sure you are making the right decisions. You have made a grave mistake already denying your Urge, and that mistake will be corrected here tonight. By your hand-”

“I will not kill him,” she snaps. Even as she speaks, her intestines thrum, her blood whispers. Something is going to happen…and she’s terrified.

“I do not doubt you will act with the decorum of one befitting your rank,” he taunts. As his form fades away, he leaves her a chilling goodbye. “Good night, sweet lady.”

The Urge is swelling now, like bile in her throat. She rips her other dagger from its sheathe and tosses it away with the other with a strained gasp. She can’t have them in her reach now, not when she’s like this. Sweat pouring down her face and chest, she staggers towards Gale like a drunken man who’s been stabbed in a bar fight. By the time she reaches him, she collapses to her knees. She reaches for his shoulder, hand wavering. How she wishes to close it around his throat instead…She yanks it back and tries again…Her fingers curl around his bicep a bit too tightly and shake him.

He wakes with not nearly enough urgency for the situation, as if she’s about to tell him that breakfast is ready. “A pleasant dream gives way to an even more pleasant reality,” he muses as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. Gods, maybe she should strangle him. “Wait…I’m not sure I like that look in your eyes. What’s wrong?”

Tav’s skin is clammy, her head spinning. She can barely focus, let alone get out the words she needs to. “You’re in danger. We need to act fast.”

“I see…” He watches her curiously, as if in disbelief. “Fast as in ‘right now’ I assume, rather than ‘first light after some sleep’ fast.” He looks about, as if the danger isn’t right in front of him. When his attention returns to her, he becomes more concerned. The way she pants and perspires shows the urgency of the matter far more than any words can. He reaches forward and cups her cheek in his hand. “What’s happened?”

“It’s…happening again, Gale,” she chokes out, hand grabbing his own with vicious aggression. But she doesn’t tear it away. “It wants you.” Fatigue fills her body like a raging flood. Her head aches with a pain she’s never known. “I can’t stop it…not for much longer. The moment I close my eyes, it will take over. You have to stop me.” Her free hand slams into the dirt to catch herself, struggling to hold up her weight. Her elbow quakes with weakness, threatening to give way. 

Gale’s brows pull together in confusion. “Sweet that you care enough to murder me. Mind if you don’t?” Despite his flippant words, he’s trying to hold her up, to keep her steady.

“Gale!” She groans, frustration mixing with anger. But it quickly gives way to desperation as the last ounces of her lucidity start to fade. “Please…don’t let me kill you.” She pleads, voice just barely a whisper.

“You’re stronger than this, Tav. I know you are.” His grip on her arms holds fast, brown eyes darting about her face for some sort of answer she doesn’t have. “We’re in this together, theoretically. You should have confided in my sooner.” 

If only she’d had an inkling that he would be her target any sooner. She’d been so sure it was only Isobel. How wrong she was. His frightened face is the last thing she sees before the darkness takes her. She fears it will be the last time she sees it in one piece…if at all.

Gale watches as her body goes limp. She slips from his hands and hits the ground, out cold. Concern mixes with relief. She cant hurt him (or herself for that matter) if she’s not awake. But for something to make her collapse like that, it can’t be good. His worry still swells. It only becomes more urgent as he recalls what she’s told him, just now and after the incident with Alfira: This is the first part of her sleep-killing. Almost like sleepwalking, he supposes. It isn’t until she loses consciousness that she loses control, and has no recollection of it afterward. 

There are only precious moments to find a way to prevent his own demise. Spells can only last a brief amount of time; he needs something more permanent. Reaching into her pack, he rifles through thieves tools and trap disarm kits until he comes across a rope. That will have to do. He rolls her onto her stomach and pulls her hands to the small of her back. It pains him to tie her up like this, but there’s little choice in the matter. It would be far worse for both of them not to restrain her. Though far from an expert on knots, he wraps the rope around her wrists multiple times, tight enough to bind but not so tight as to cut off circulation. Who knows how long the bindings will have to stay in place, after all.

Only seconds after, he feels her begin to stir. Gale steps back, crouched on the ground in front of her as she rolls to her side, groggy and disoriented. For a moment, he wonders if she’s only fainted and nothing more.

Those hopes evaporate in an instant as Tav’s eyes snap open. The warm obsidian of her clever eyes is replaced with an empty, cold black; devoid of any rational thought or caring sentiment. They see him instantly, and she thrashes on the ground to get at him.

“Easy there,” he coos, trying to calm her. “Your mind is your own, as are your limbs. Don’t do anything rash.” 

Despite his words, it certainly doesn’t seem any of those things are her own at the moment. He tries to place a reassuring hand on her arm, but she lurches and snaps her jaws at him, attepting to bite his hand off.

He jerks back, blinking in shock. “By the Weave, you’re practically rabid. This is not good, if I may state the obvious.” It’s in fact, far worse than he thought.

“I’ll carve your chest into an empty hollow and throw your offal to the wolves,” she growls, still raging against her restraints.

“Spare me the gory details,” Gale retorts, undeterred. “I know you’re still in there. Hold fast.”

A maniacal laugh is her only response, and it unsettles him. To hear such malice in her voice directed not at an enemy, but at him...For a moment, he feels he knows the terror her enemies felt before she cut them down. But only a moment. “Steady! You can rein this in,” he tries to assure her. “Nobody’s getting hurt.”

“Your blood will clot for me like liquid rubies,” she responds with palpable fury. An oddly poetic threat, one he might appreciate were it not his blood she was referring to. Gale refuses to show any fear, for better or worse. “No, no clotting. I like my blood flowing in my veins, thank you most kindly.”

Fast as a Lightning spell, she swings one lithe, powerful leg and it connects with the side of his skull. Gale falls to the side, dazed as he tries to regain his bearings and spit the dirt from his mouth. Damn, he should have bound her at the ankles too, it would seem. When his blurred vision clears again, he finds her on her own two feet. Wide stanced, she jerks her arms about in an unnatural manner that could surely ruin her joins were she not careful. With a final yank and a (strangely emphatic) yelp of pain, her hands are freed, the bloodied rope falling to the ground. Grabbing her dangling thumb in one hand, she grunts only once as she forces it back into place with a sickening pop and the ease of someone whose done this dozens of times before. She runs her tongue along the bloodied skin of her wrists, but her eyes never leave him. Like a predator locked onto their prey, she watches for his next move.

And Gale is desperately trying to think of one. There are not many options available to him in this situation. He’s far from defenseless, but he has no interest in incinerating the woman he loves.

The revelation is there, even at such an inopportune time. Even now when the monster stands before him, he still sees her…and he wants to save her as much as he wants to save himself. Moreso, even.

“You delay the inevitable, wizard,” she taunts, voice low and oddly honeyed. “When I’m finished with you, you’ll be little more than a pile of viscera. Perhaps I’ll keep one of your fingers and wear it around my neck, as a token to remember your slaughter by.” 

Gale carefully stands, keeping his full attention on her all the while. He knows she’s fast, and deadly if she gets close. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d much prefer if our romance was of the less homicidal sort.” 

Tav dives on him and his back slams into the ground in flash. He grunts on impact, but there’s little else that can escape his lips when her hands are clasped so tight around his throat. He tries to pry them off, but she’s far stronger than her lean form might suggest. Straddled across his waist, she stares down at him; white teeth gleaming stark against her dark lips as they curl into a vicious grin. He swears the shadows themselves seem to circle her eyes, disappearing into the smudged kohl around her lids. For all the times he’s dreamed of having her atop him, his fantasies generally didn’t include her choking him to death.

She removes one hand to reach for something at her belt, but it isn’t there. He realizes she doesn’t have her daggers, an oddity even in the middle of the night. She’s always kept at least one on her at all times. There’s no time to consider where they are, but their absence buys him time he otherwise might not have had.

In her moment of distraction, he releases her hand and flourishes his own to the proper incantation. “Noli movere!”

The spell lands, holding her frozen in place. He shoves her off him, coughing as he forces his neck out of her iron grip. Hurriedly, he scrambles away and checks his surroundings. “I need to think,” he mutters to himself. The spell’s effects won’t last long, and there’s always the chance she could break free, or that something out here could cause him to falter. Clearly binding her hands together was not enough, but what else can he do? 

He searches for anything he can use. The rope is still where it was. The anvil could be a good anchor point, but would still allow her the flexibility of moving her wrists together to break free. He needs to keep them apart.

The remnants of the smithy’s structure above them provides opportunity he needs, he realizes. Gale dashes for the rope, then towards one of the higher, angled support beams. Urgent, but careful, he ties it tight as he can around the wood, then takes the slack to where she lays, binding it around her left wrist much tighter than before. He winces as he does so, noting the raw and bleeding wounds left behind from her first escape. As much as he wishes not to cause her discomfort or impede her circulation, she’s proven her dexterous hands can slip out of most anything. After knotting the first binding, he gives slack and wraps her other wrist with the same technique. Rushing towards the twin support beam, he begins to wrap the final knots, but he’s out of time. The spell wanes and Tav rages against her restraints. With a mighty tug, she yanks her bound hand back and pulls him with it, slamming his face into the wood. He feels the skin above his brow split, warm blood trickling down towards his eye.

“Lenteron!” He is forced to let go to cast the spell, but gravity unwraps the rope slowly enough that he can catch it before it falls. And now, Tav moves slowly enough that he can pull back against her strength. All those years locked in his tower hadn’t only been spent reading books, and the strength building has certainly paid off now. He ties off the final knot, satisfied enough with his hurried handiwork. It will have to do for now, but he prays she comes out of her thrall soon. Gale jumps down, giving a wide berth as he circles around to the front of her. Tav’s gaze follows him all the wild; intimidating, predatory. By the time the spell wears off, she’s enraged. On her knees and arms spread out above her head, she scowls as if commanding him to bleed with a mere look.

“I’ll tear those watchful eyes from your skull and crush them beneath my boot, wizard.” Gale is unmoved by her menacing demeanor. The restraints, however, strain as she pulls them in towards herself. The leverage brings her to her feet once more, but her bindings keep her at bay…for now. With something akin to a battle cry, she pulls at the ropes with all her strength, even as the rope bites into her wounds. The wooden support beams creak under her power, her biceps swelling with effort. Gale stands and watches with as much awe as he does anxiety.

“You’re only going to hurt yourself like this,” he advises, knowing full well she’s in no condition to listen to him. “This isn’t you, Tavrin. You have to fight it!”

Deaf to his encouragement, she struggles again. The rotting wood cracks like thunder and his heart skips a beat…but the support does not give way. Thank Mystra that Tav isn’t built like Karlach, or that would be a different story. He looks to her face, trying to find any sign of her in those dark eyes. 

Tav pants with effort, mouth agape in a sinister, open-mouthed grin. Saliva trails from her canine to her bottom lip, long strands of hair flying still about her shoulders, eyes wide and empty save for the bloodthirst in her gaze. She looks positively feral, nigh unrecognizable. “I will savor the taste of your flesh between my teeth, and I will relish your every scream.”

Gale opens his mouth to retort, one finger lifted, but pauses and shuts his mouth. That one was rather…erotic. Was that a good sign? He has no way of knowing. “On any other night, I might have taken you up on that one. For now, I will ask that you keep your teeth to yourself.”

At this point, he just hopes there will be ‘another night’ at all.

It goes on like that for what seems like hours, though it’s hard to determine the passage of time in eternal darkness. She hurls her murderous threats, and he deflects them with something witty…In part to keep himself calm, but in hopes that it will also keep her calm. They say predators can smell fear, and he does not wish to give her cause to try any harder to kill him than she already is. By this point, thin trails of blood drip down the length of her forearms and heavy bruising circles her skin where the bindings bite into her flesh. 

Eventually, her arms begin to slacken, her words become less impassioned, her eyelids become heavy. Thank the gods, the end of this must be near. Minutes later, she falls silent. Her body goes limp, knees hitting the dirt as the rope suspends her in midair by her wrists. Her head hangs and body swings like a corpse. For a brief moment he fears that she’s dead, even if there is nothing to cause it.

Gale rushes forward, throwing caution to the wind. It could be a trap, but he doubts it. The Tav he knows may be a master of cunning and deceit, but this other side of her seemed incapable of rational, calculated thought. If there was a trap to be laid, she’d have done it long ago. On his knees before her, he lifts her head to look at him, but she’s still unconscious. With a deep breath, he brushes a thumb across her cheek and finds a pulse at her neck. What a relief, and even more so to see her face peaceful again. Seconds later, her eyes flutter open. They dart up to see him, but they are no longer hollow…only guilty. “Gale…”

She’s back. Thank the gods, she’s back.

“I think I see the madness slipping from your eyes,” he says calmly. “Looks like I won’t be joining Alfira just yet.” He pulls the small paring knife from his boot. Though far more suitable to cooking, he doesn’t want to leave her in these bindings a moment longer than necessary. Once she’s freed, he takes a seat before her as she rubs at the open sores on her wrist.

“Welcome back to the land of the lucid…Where explanations are owed, if you don’t mind.” While he’s not angry, his tone is firm. If this is a new development in their relationship, it’s best he knows the details of it.

Tav stares down at her wrists, though it’s clear she’s really staring at nothing in particular. “I…wish I had one,” she whispers. “Well, a full one, anyway.” With a heavy sigh, she drops her hands into her lap and looks at him, dejected. “Something is deeply wrong with me…And it has something to do with my past life that I don’t remember.” She picks idly at one of her broken nails, tone unusually melancholy. “Not only do I have these…Urges…But there’s this fiend who keeps visiting me in the night. He claims he’s my fucking butler.” Despondence takes on a bitter bite at the mention of the creature, a spark of anger flashing in her eyes. “I can’t remember him, but he knows me…Calls me ‘master’ and ‘milady’, as if I were nobility of some sort. He came to me after I killed Alfira first. Then after I met Isobel, telling me it was my ‘duty’ to kill her. And tonight, telling me that because I failed to do so…” Her fists clench in her lap, voice strained through gritted teeth. “…That I would kill you, instead. And in doing so I am entitled so some sort of…tithe. I refused, but he said that my ‘Dark Urge cannot be denied’.” 

It’s quite a lot to take in, but more importantly, Gale desperately tries to make sense of it. Unraveling the world’s mysteries was one of the great ambitions all wizards aspire to and he is no exception. This mystery, however, is the most important one in his life at this moment. More than the artefact, more than the Absolute, more even than the Orb. But try as he might, there are no answers he can offer within his grasp. “This…fiendish butler of yours,” he asks, waving his hand in a small circle. “Is it possible that he is compelling you to perform these killings?”

Tav runs her tongue over her teeth behind her lip, then bites the corner. “I can’t say. If he is, then he’s able to do so without telling me. His appearances have always been after I feel the Urge’s call…” There’s hesitation, a world of thoughts running rampant behind her eyes. “It’s almost like…he’s prophesizing what I will do rather than commanding me to do it.” She looks up at him, jaw clenched with apprehension. “I fear that whatever this is…it’s deeply rooted in me.”

“We all have our dark sides,” he says with a slow nod and somber voice. “Even if some are quite a bit darker than others. It takes no small amount of courage to recognize when we’re the root cause of it. Many would find it easier to cast blame on another and absolve themselves of culpability.” He tilts her chin up toward him with a hooked finger, a warm smile on his bruised face. “And you are certainly the most courageous person I know.” He can’t pull a smile out of her this time, though. She may have tried to kill him only minutes ago, yet still his heart breaks to see her like this.  “How do you feel now?”

It’s only then that she realizes the sickness has passed. There’s no more sweat, save for that which still lingers. No more pounding head or dizzy spells. No more thoughts of murdering Gale…or Isobel, for that matter. “I feel…fine,” she says with revelation. “Better than I’ve felt in days.”

Gale nods in pleased approval. “The Urge cannot be denied, but perhaps it can be worn out…given enough time and restraints.” His voice is surprisingly casual despite everything. “No doubt it will be back. However, now that we know what to look out for, we can be better prepared.” 

He makes a good point, and part of her is relieved, but it’s hard to feel anything other than remorse as she examines his face. There’s a bruise forming on his cheekbone, there’s a gash on his forehead that must have only stopped bleeding recently. Her mouth pressed in a tight line, she reaches forward and gently brushes the drying trail away with her fingertips, but it only smudges it. “Hells…I’m so sorry, Gale. I know I did this to you, but…I’m just grateful you’re not worse off…not dead.”

He reaches for her hand, delicately pulling it away and holding it between them. Gale’s thumb runs over the palm of her hand towards the abrasions on her forearm, but stops just short. The deep crimson rings look far more painful than anything she gave him. The corner of his mouth lifts in a teasing smile. “Not for lack of trying. I gave you my heart, and was rather hoping you wouldn’t skewer it.” Still, she’s not receptive to his jests, but he supposes it’s too soon for that. “Quick thinking on your part to ditch your daggers ahead of time, though. I can’t say it made it any easier to restrain you, but…perhaps a bit less dangerous.” He chooses not to burden her with the knowledge that had she not done so, he may not be here. He forgoes further teasing for sincerity, both hands now closed softly around her own. “But this is surmountable, I’m sure. I’ll protect you until you prevail.”

Tav doesn’t break, but her lip quivers. How impossible it seems to her that he’s offering to protect her when he’s the one in danger. And yet, it means everything to hear him say that. Even if she doesn’t deserve it, the selfish part of her is glad for it. “I couldn’t blame you if you hated me for this,” she sighs. “If you asked me to leave, if you killed me. It’s all well within your rights.”

“Hate’s too easy for my liking,” he says quickly, shutting down any further attempt at self-deprecation. “And killing you isn’t a solution, only capitulation…One I’m not certain I could live with, even if it were in self defense.”

Skepticism clouds her features now, disbelieving that he would be so tolerant of this incident. She doesn’t have to voice it, he can read it in her pursed lips and furrowed brow. Hands still holding onto her own, he glances up towards the sky. “You know, this reminds me of a time in my life not so long ago. I was traveling with a woman, but I chose not to divulge the details of my condition to her.” He gestures a twirling motion. “I wrapped it in vague explanations with a cryptic bow on top so as not to alarm her…despite the danger it put her in.” With a quick glance, he sees that she’s already caught onto who he’s talking about. Not that he was being particularly subtle, but she’d always been sharp. “I asked her to help me with this condition for little in return, not even the truth of the matter. Up until the point where it was no longer sustainable.” He softly closes his hand around her fingers, almost protectively. “Oh, she had every right to hate me. To cast me off for my deception, for the danger I posed to her and the others.” He lifts her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her fingertips. “You stood by me anyway. Even when all hope of finding a solution seemed lost and I was nearing the end of my stability, you remained at my side all the while. And still, here you are.” Their hands lower again, resting in the small space between their crossed legs. “I fully understood my condition and I kept it from you when I shouldn’t have. You are still trying to unravel the secrets of your own, and yet you’ve still been forthcoming. At least, more so than I was.” He tries a playful smirk once more. “Far be it for me to judge you for being a dangerous bedfellow.”

Finally, he wins a smile from her. It’s a triumph he takes great pride in. “Is this where that ‘a brush with danger calls for other forms of stimulation’ bit comes from?”

Gale laughs, caught off guard at her sudden turn in demeanor, but glad for it. “This is a rather high-risk romance we’ve embarked upon, isn’t it? Though I’ve a mind to deny the relation…perhaps you’re not completely off the mark.” The relief he feels is overwhelming, and he can scarcely control the smile that dominates is features. “You certainly have a striking beauty about you when you’re ready to kill, even if it’s directed at me. At least there’s no shortage of enemies out there for you to kill instead. A veritable feast for the violent-at-heart.” His free hand reaches forth to cradle her jaw, pulling her in closer. “Chin up. We’ll best this…whatever it is. Together.” 

Gale’s forehead leans against hers, tips of their noses touching. Only moments ago she was able to get her breathing back under control, and now it’s short once again. It’s the first time they’ve been so close for so long. His skin is warm against her cold, clammy flesh. The silence that falls between them is calm, comfortable…but there’s a subtle tension in it. An unfamiliar sort that pools in her chest with a gentle warmth. Fingertips trail lightly under the curve of her jaw, and Tav exhales slow in time with the caress. His own hot breath tickles the skin of her lips. Once more, her hand moves for his neck…but this time, it softly curves around the back. Digits tangle in his silver-streaked hair, and she closes the remaining distance between them. Her lips on his are met with equal fervor, pressing into hers with a passion that makes it clear he’s wanted this as much as she has…perhaps more. Slow, languid kisses gradually morph into something deeper and open mouthed. Her arms thread around his shoulders and Gale’s wrap around her waist, practically pulling her into his lap. The scruff of Gale’s beard tickles at her cheeks as she devours him. The ache in her wrists doesn’t stop her from pulling him in closer, heaving chest to heaving chest. 

The warm wet of her mouth is far more intoxicating than he imagined. Even as her short nails dig into the fabric of his shirt, he holds no apprehension. Gale may have seen the monster in her, but he knows the real her well enough. No monster could hold him like this, kiss him like this, arouse him like this. The monster in him is no less dangerous, no easier to control, and yet she melds her tongue and body against his without fear. Fingers pressed firm against her hip, they slip under the fabric of her shirt and drag upward, slow and deliberate. The breathy moan he elicits from her is the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and he desperately wants to hear it again. Tav reciprocates with fingers tugging at his hair and teeth softly pinching his bottom lip. It matters little that they’re out in the open in a cursed place, bloodied and battered. She’s the only thing that matters in that moment, and her rapt attention is just as locked on him.

Another guttural groan rings out, but it’s not her…nor is it him. Both freeze, panting and startled. Yards away, mounds of Shadow vines shamble towards them. They haven’t noticed the pair yet, but they will soon. Tav jumps from Gale’s lap as he clambers to his feet. “You might want to find your daggers,” he advises, cool and collected, hands at the ready as the green aura of Blight hovers around his fingers. She’s already halfway there. On her return, she twirls one in her hand and cocks her head, a ready grin on her face. “I’d rather face a dozen of these fuckers than Lae’zel.” How irksome that she’d nearly been right.

He grins back. “I’ll face anything at your side.”