Democha
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Summary
The pale elf stood stock-still. His eyes betrayed no alarm.
“Astarion,” Halsin huffed. “My apologies. I thought myself alone, and must not have been aware of my surroundings. I hope I didn’t startle you.”
Astarion smirked, his frame breaking into the languid, theatrical stance Halsin found familiar. “My dear druid, I live for surprises. And you,” he purred, his eyes sweeping over Halsin’s expansive torso, “are a pleasant surprise indeed.”
Halsin felt his face grow hot. He disregarded the reaction. Astarion wore his flirtation like a cloak; to be donned when useful, and otherwise set aside. He chuckled, “Well, then, I bid you goodnight. If we’re to tackle the Gauntlet of Shar tomorrow, we’ll sorely need our rest. Walk safely.” He sidestepped the smaller elf and made to continue his walk back to camp.
“Wait.” -
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Summary
The love of Astarion's life has disappeared to go live in the daylight with the druids, and Astarion is stuck in the darkness once more, yearning for sunlight with every fibre of his being, while bitterly reflecting on all the things that were denied to him in the end - love, sunlight, the option to kill thousands of people and become a near-god...
Raphael knows Astarion's desperate, and comes to him with not one, but two horrid contract offers that Astarion loathes and dreads in equal measure - but the prize at the end of both are too good to turn down, and he's become too cynical to care about how much of a good idea it is to give his body to a devil for a month or two, because really, comparatively, how bad could it be?
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Summary
Astarion is Desperate to escape Cazador. He's willing to anything. Even follow legends and myths to find the cursed Shadow Druid statue and free him. Well.. It sounded easy, but part of that meant... Finishing what the druid and his lover had started centuries ago.
Dear Gods, please don't let anyone come across him ah... *riding* the statue.
(Based on a dark romance fb ad I saw a long time ago about needing to break a petrification curse by having sex with the 'statue' and it stuck in my brain and refused to leave until this happened...)
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- Words:
- 383,059
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 34
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Summary
It was foolish. Undignified. He was a wizard, a scholar, a survivor of cataclysmic fate. He had touched the Weave itself. And yet here he lay, reduced to this - undone by memory, by the ghost of a mouth brushing his skin in the dark, by words never spoken, by letters left unwritten, by the immense and echoing quiet that greeted him in every room he entered alone.
Or
An epilogue turned book two.
Series
- Part 2 of I’d Burn Through the World