Chpt 8. Mommy, Sorry
Trigger Warning: 100% smut, Sadomasochism, Sub, Dom, Violence, Sexual Violence, Cucking, Hair Pulling, Strangulation, Violent Fantasies, Lo Siento Senorita, Jealous Frogs.
Sazza is sitting on the edge of the broken stone floor overlooking the spider pit. She turns toward us as we approach, and slowly climbs to her feet, "Gods Boss, you killed a squid?"
Astarion gives me a mocking glance, knowing full well the damn thing was helpless. I ignore him, "Yes, they are tenacious. Now, I believe you were going to introduce me to Minthara."
Sazza's spirits lift, "That's right! She's right through here!" She points to a door just in front of us.
She leads us into a war room, occupied by a slender, battle-hardened drow in webbed armor. Her hair is tied up in a loose bun, and her voice is commanding and incredibly dulcet. She's berating Brynna, the Novice that escaped me yesterday. "I don't care if he was a True Soul, he doesn't outrank me! If Andrick was callous enough to get killed by this imbecile, then maybe he deserved it. I need you out there searching for that weapon!" Her voice fills the room with a tantalizing edge. I want her to scream at me, step on my neck, tell me what a wretch I am.
Brynna instantly sees me as I enter. She goes pale and steps back. Minthara turns her attention to me. The moment her eyes meet mine she surges into my thoughts. I empty my head and only offer the one thing that pervades. Death, to every degree. From her mind I am fed images of Crab Bitch. I focus, collecting any notion I can from this brief connection. The Bitch has a long annoying braid, pale shifting skin and even paler eyes. My mind twists with a sense of resentment, pity, and reluctant obligation. As if she were a child I used to tend to. As the connection fades Minthara is quiet for a moment before addressing me. "You must be him. The True Soul who's come to undermine my authority?"
Her cold voice laps at my ears. I can't hold back a grin, but I maintain my composure. "I have come to aid in the search for the weapon. I was sent from Moonrise."
She shifts with wary skepticism. "I can see you've come with violence in your heart; you are to help me mount an attack on those creatures in the grove."
I hold up my hand. "I have infiltrated the grove. I am currently working amongst the people there. Tiefling refugees from Elturel, along with a druid's circle. They do not know I'm a True Soul."
She looks at me stunned, "You?! Infiltrated the grove?"
I roll my eyes and gesture to my horns.
She narrows her eyes at me, not amused by my flippant gesture. "Good... That means they trust you. Make your way inside and when I give the signal, open the gate. We will burn that damned place to the ground and sift the weapon from the ashes."
The image she paints in my mind is erotic. Bodies. Everywhere. I close my eyes and tilt my head back giving a deep sigh of pleasure. I can watch each Tiefling as the light leaves their eyes. I exhale and murmur, "They would die thinking I'm their hero." My heart grasps desperately for the beautiful fate; but as blissful as it seems, none of this takes into consideration my survival. I pull out of the cradle of euphoria and come back to myself. "I still have dealings that need to be tended to. The residents will remain untouched for now. Once my duties are complete, I will give the word, and we march on the grove."
She scoffs, her nose curling at my rejection. "And what duties are those? How can those mongrels be of any use to The Absolute?"
Her pushback is enticing, but this game is yet another nuisance. I posture, taking in the air of authority that I wear like a second skin. "These orders are for me and my company. The nature of my duties is none of your concern. They will be carried out in the name of The Absolute despite your temper." I sneer, speaking down to her like a subordinate.
She has no patience for men who throw their weight around and her ire creates a palpable ozone in the war room. "You invoke her name against me? I am Nightwarden Minthara Baenre, I will not be spoken down to! I demand you tell me the nature of your orders, Jabbuk del waelen!"
I am so used to people buckling under my superiority that her push back catches me off guard. My mind goes blank, and I can't think of a reasonable lie. My silent mind fills with fantasies of dominating her and her captivating retribution. I'm lost in the possibilities, and as the silence stretches, a cocky grin crosses my face.
Her anger rises and she snaps. "Insufferable!" She surges back into my mind and sees in an instant everything I want her to do to me. She pauses and then pulls out. She begins to laugh at me; brash, sharp, and alluring. She steps closer, her presence dominates the space between us. With callous red eyes gleaming, she begins walking around me, circling me like a spider assessing her prey. She grabs the collar of my cloak and pulls it off my shoulders, forcefully. In an instant, I feel vulnerable, but it's couched in arousal as she openly objectifies me. With a light touch she drags her finger across my arm. It's subtle but enough to send shivers down my spine.
She pauses in front of me, gliding her hand across my chest, resting her palm at its center. Her face inches from mine, her breath warm against my skin. "Grovel." I drop to my knees feeling the pull of her paladins parlor tricks. She's no better than Brynna. I need to find a way to keep myself from being subject to magical commands. She steps on my thigh with one finger under my chin, forcing me to face her. Her nail digs just enough to keep me at attention. "Another devil who clawed his way out of the hells. Built to kill. Begging for a master."
Her gaze burns with raw dominion as she backhands me hard across the face. The sound echoes through the chamber, and a shocked silence falls over my companions. "How dare you infect my mind with your foul desires." Her voice hisses with resentment.
With a subtle glance I see Shadowheart and Astarion huddled, watching with amusement to see what happens. I can trust these two to be a loyal peanut gallery at my expense.
Minthara's voice cuts as she attempts to elicit answers from me. "What is the nature of your orders!?" After a brief pause she strikes me again, harder. "Petulant Iblith! You will answer me!"
I finally speak, dodging her question. "I'm looking for the Druid Halsin. He was party to the adventurers that slipped into this very camp." I lock onto her. "...under your nose..."
Her eyes go wide with fury, she puts her boot on my chest, kicking me to the ground. I fall, splayed out onto the filthy stone floor. My horn catches the ground and rattles my skull. I'm dazed by the assault. She sharply turns to a goblin subordinate. "When were you going to tell me the damned bear was a DRUID!?" Her words are a river of steel, cutting straight into the goblin's final heartbeats. "Throw him in the spider pits, NOW!"
The guards jump, closing in on the damned subordinate and pulling him away, kicking and screaming. "NO MISTRESS! PLEASE! I-I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A BEAR!!!" Sazza watches on, hugging her elbows, mouth agape.
Minthara walks back to her war table. "Pick up your cloak. You look like a damned mess." I finally stand, brushing my hair back with a trembling hand. I stoop down and pick up my cloak, throwing it over my shoulders. I try to adjust my pants in futility. Visibly aroused, and helplessly so.
She looks at me and snaps her fingers, pointing to the ground in front of her. Like the dog that I am, I obey and move to where she commands. She pushes me back against the table, the wood creaking beneath my weight as I am forced to lean into it. She drags her thigh against my throbbing cock, teasing but offering no relief. She pulls me in by the collar, "You will learn your place. Degenerates like you always do. Obey and I may indulge you, cross me again and I will end you. Surely that should be simple enough for a half-wit foulblood to understand."
"Foulblood?" My voice is silk as I feel the thoughts rise within me again, that familiar crackling bringing me to life. Grab her. Hold her. Fuck her. She wants it. She wants you. You deserve to have her. There would be nothing she could do to stop you. My arms twitch as my ravenous mind yearns to bend her over the table. Where is the waistband to her armor, anyway? My eyes drift across her body, her armor hugging her figure delightfully. "My blood is the hell's flames that give power to your purpose." I slowly brush my hand down the curve of her waist, testing her.
She slaps me once again. "Keep your filthy hands to yourself!"
A wide grin splits my foul mouth, sharp teeth gleaming in the candlelight. Bite her. I slide my hands under the tassets of her armor, and firmly grip her ass, pulling her into my erection. She gasps as she falls into me, catching herself on my shoulders. I stand, lifting her up and throwing her onto the table. A fresh, contemptuous fire ignites within her. Her fist slams into my face and the shock of the blow causes me to let go of her. Sharp pain shoots through my nose and down my neck. I take the hit and give myself a moment to recover, feeling blood trickling down my lip as it cools on my skin. My eyes meet hers, flaming gold and recklessly aroused. "Good girl."
She swiftly holds her dagger to my throat. I lift my hands in surrender as she stands. She's shaking with rage. "SHUT UP!" She grabs my face, digging her nails into my cheeks. "How dare you treat me with such disrespect! I should cut you down! But only by her grace you will be spared. Do not cross me again, or not even she can protect you from my vengeance." Her nostrils flare and something happens to her eyes at the mention of vengeance. The flicker of someone else long forgotten. It is quickly lost and her composure returns. "Go to the worg pens. You will find the druid there, as a bear." Her voice is scornful and mocking. "Question the ingrate, complete your 'mission', and return to me when you are finally ready to march."
My eyes track hers, my mouth watering, my heart thumping in my chest with exhilaration. She finally releases me from her cruel grasp.
"You are dismissed; I have other leads to follow. I'll leave that damned grove to you, for now." She pushes me back with force and steps away, turning to Brynna, "You, join the goblins. I will call for you when the Absolute has use for you again."
Brynna looks on, speechless and visibly uncomfortable. She begins to move as soon as her thoughts catch up with her, leaving with her head down, refusing to look at anyone.
I watch her leave and pity her. Nothing left to her, no family, no purpose, only a relentless limbo while she waits to be useful again. I attempt to adjust my pants again, and again, it's a futile effort. I rejoin my companions, and see Shadowheart and Astarion completely engrossed in my humiliation. I'm grinning like an idiot and shake my head at them before a flash of clarity strikes me. I turn back to Minthara, "What are my orders once I've located the weapon?"
She barely acknowledges my presence and murmurs to herself. "Zrell sends me useless man after useless man. You're no better than that buffoon, Nere." She looks up at me, her annoyance edged with disdain, "Once it's located, you bring it to me. We will return to Moonrise and report to General Thorm. If you weren't such a half-wit this would be obvious."
Thorm. The name thrums in my mind like the sound of a war drum, and I get the phantom scent of dust and rot. "Of course, Mistress." She turns back to her map, but I hold my gaze to her for a moment more, settling my lustful heart before turning back to my company. I run my hand through my hair once more and look at Lae'zel, she is watching me impatiently. I gesture for her to lead us out since she's standing closest to the ladder, divorced from my torment entirely. As I go to follow the others I feel a gentle tug on my cloak.
I stop to see Sazza looking up at me expectantly, "Is there anything else you needed from me, Boss?" Her face is twisted into amusement at the spectacle she just witnessed. I can't blame her.
"No. You did very well in bringing me here." I open my cloak and pull out one of my daggers, "Take this, for your troubles." I stoop down and hand it to her. A small token, it's a standard iron dagger, well maintained and a good size for her.
She takes it and her eyes go wide, looking it over, turning it in her hand, "Hells' teeth, I've never seen anything with that kind of shine. I can see my own face in it!" She smirks with mischievous gratitude. She most certainly won't do anything constructive with that weapon, "Praise The Absolute! Thanks, Boss!"
I watch her with empty eyes as she scurries away. I straighten my cloak and continue after my team, glad to finally escape the dominant aura of the drow that still bewitches me. This place is not doing me any favors; it's almost embarrassing how horny a goblin camp is making me.
We leave with no information regarding the tadpoles, but I know now the Cult is centered at Moonrise, wherever the hells that is. The leader seems to be a man named General Thorm. He might very well be one of The Chosen. I get another hint of familiarity from it all, but as various sensations flood me, I begin to feel overwhelmed. My body still seethes from the feeling of erotic degradation. I quieten my thoughts for a moment, something that's quickly becoming habit. Always overwhelmed. Always too many voices. Always seething. It doesn't matter how hard I try they never seem to go away, my only hope is to dampen them enough to allow myself to rise to the surface and take control.
As we enter the pens, I feel a small hand grip my arm and drag me into a side room near the entrance. I inhale sharply, the command over my body perpetuates the arousal I've been fighting to tame. I abruptly sneeze, followed by a shock of pain from my bruised nose. "Gods... excuse me."
I see Shadowheart hanging onto me. She looks at me in pity and shakes her head. "You're a mess." She places her hand on my head. A pulse of blue light closes the wounds I earned from the Drow. "You aren't really going to tell the goblins to march on the grove, are you?" She asks as if it were a matter of practicality, but the concern's blatant.
I rub my hand over my face to reclaim my senses, lowering my voice, "I think you can agree that our number one priority is survival. Any decision I make moving forward will be in our best interest. Now that I have command over the march, we can take our time with Halsin. Gods know how far we can get with him if his precious grove is nothing but bodies and ash." I close my eyes and shudder, trying to stifle an inadvertent moan that registers in my throat. The erotic imagery causes another surge of desire, but I calm myself before continuing with an unsteady voice. "However... if following Minthara to Moonrise is what yields us a cure, then we have to hold the raid as a very real possibility."
Shadowheart hears my words and understands, but she hesitates.
I put a gentle hand on her back. "They're just refugees. They'd have died long ago given everything they've been through. They're ghosts clinging to hope, they aren't worth much in the greater scheme of things."
She looks at me, stunned. "How can you say that about your own kin? I'm not saying I disagree with your pragmatism, but it's not something I would have expected from you. Regardless of your Oath, wouldn't you feel a duty to protect them?"
I search a way to put it into simple terms for her. "Do you want me to prioritize my duty to them over my duty to you?"
She's quiet for a moment, her eyes tracking my face as she untangles the idea in her mind. "No, of course not."
I look around, taking a tally of the room. We're in an old chapel with an Altar of Selûne still standing vigil toward the front. Goblin graffiti scattered on the crumbling walls that open into the main chamber of the worg pens. Our voices could carry if we aren't careful. Astarion leans against the door frame, his back to us, pretending not to listen. Lae'zel is positioned as a second lookout, her stiff demeanor betrays her ever-present agitation. I lean into Shadowheart, lowering my voice. "The day will come when I swear a new oath to be imbued with purpose, but for now, our survival is my only priority. All I can do is ensure the grove is not sacrificed in vain."
Her spirit stirs, inspired by my words. "I will help you, Vash, I swear it. Until we find a cure."
I take her hands in mine and give her a gracious smile. "Your wisdom keeps me grounded, Shadowheart. The more we work together, the more I believe we'll make it through this."
She yearns for my validation and bears genuine pride as I touch her spirit, her face settling into a steely resolve. "If that's true, then I'd like to talk to you about your behavior with Nightwarden Minthara. To be frank, it was reckless, though I can't deny that it was effective. If you plan on using such tools of manipulation in the future, please be sure not to lose the run of yourself."
My mind rushes back to the war room. Tantalizing as it all was, I was not in as much control as I needed to be. I'm not surprised she's bringing it up to me now. "I'd never endanger you, if that's your concern, although I must admit I was being a little indulgent."
"Indulgent?" I see a brief flash of mischief in her eye as she slips her hand inside my cloak. "Is indulgent the word you're going to use for your behavior?" She drags her fingers over my waist and across my stomach. "Do you think you deserve indulgence at a time like this? As you said, this is about our survival." Her hand slides lower before pressing firmly against my lingering erection. Her hazel eyes watch me, and I feel stripped bare by her scrutiny. "Honestly, I thought better of you."
Shit.
A tremor rushes through me. She feels it too, and grips the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss. Hot and passionate, I close my eyes and lean in as her hand slips down the front of my pants. Her delicate fingers caress me and my body aches as I become feral.
CHOKE HER. A faint panic shocks me, and I pull back. With a ragged breath I force myself to grab her wrists, restraining her from tormenting me any further. "Shadowheart, you don't have to do this." My body is throbbing, I want to ravage her, but my self-control has been hanging by a thread.
She flashes a giving, yet coquettish smile. "Vash, get ahold of yourself. I can handle you, don't be afraid." Her eyes pierce my dark heart, but any feelings I might have for her are consumed by the void at the center of it all. All that is left for her is carnal lust.
I slowly let go of her wrists and place a hand on her waist. Her chainmail is cold beneath my fingers. The links shift with a soft and stilted ringing sound. I guide her over to the Altar of Selûne but feel her seize. “What are you doing?” The altar’s blue stone eyes stare blankly into a chapel with no purpose, dedicated to a goddess who hasn't heard a word of worship here in a hundred years. She sharply inhales as I lift her onto the stone top, and she glances back at the eyes, wary, and edged with fear.
I brush my hand across her cheek. Her face is scarred by countless battles, but she's by no means battle worn. "I'm so grateful to be traveling with you, Shadowheart. You are indomitable. It's not lost on me the trust I've instilled, for you to be offering yourself to me." My eyes linger on her body as I lean into her. "I want to be able to trust you, too."
A faint desperation comes over her. "Have I not been competent and reliable by your side?"
I nod slowly. "Competent, reliable, yes. But not honest."
She becomes leery of me and speaks quickly. "You know I don't remember much of my past. I'm not trying to be dishonest, but Shar's secrets must be protected!" She gasps sharply, covering her mouth. Fear ripping through her.
A predatory grin crosses my face—I've snared my rabbit. I reach under her mail and begin to untie the waist of her leggings. "Let me worship with you."
Her eyes go wide and a flame of lust surges with a heretical fervor. She grips me tight, pulling me into another kiss. Her mouth is hot and flushed, and her infectious warmth seeps into me. She pulls my belt loose, reaching into my pants to free my erection. It springs forth with an aching desperation. Feeling her merciful strokes, I give a quiet, satisfied moan.
I run my hand under her thigh as she brings her knee up around my waist. I grip her voluptuous ass—firm and demanding and pull her into me. I'm not going to last very long. I reach up under her draping mail and begin to pull the waist of her leggings down.
With her hand on my chest, she firmly pushes me back and slides off the altar. She sinks to her knees, and a chill runs down my spine as she sticks out her tongue, resting my head on her lips, and consuming me with ease. I place my hand on the back of her head, and any of my lingering tension melts away.
Her mouth is warm and supple; her throat is relaxed as she works me. She knows I'm on the edge, only working me long enough to leave me slick with arousal and her tender ministrations. With a toying grin she lifts herself up by my cloak.
I drag my hand between her legs and firmly press my fingers against her heat. She whimpers softly with her escalating passion. My voice dips low with honeyed dominion. "I want to weave myself into your devotion, Shadowheart. I need your dark goddess to feel me as we mire this altar together."
With a quaking breath, she sanctions me. "In Shar's name."
I bend her over the Altar of Selûne, pulling the waistband of her leggings down just enough to expose her to me. I admire her delicate pink folds; her lips are slight and tufted with dark hair. I run my fingers over her, and she bites back another moan. She's slick, fragrant, and I hunger for her embrace. I tease my head over her, and with a few purposeful strokes I enter her. Chills shoot through me as she hugs my cock deliciously. She is trying to be quiet but struggles to stifle a cry. I start slowly, but my motions grow greedy as my urges beg to be satiated. She's on her toes, gripping the ornate stonework. I glance up to the eyes of Selûne, holding tightly to Shadowheart's hips. I yearn for Selûne's anguish but am bathed in a silken darkness that imbues me with a blessing of my sacrament. I lean forward and kiss Shadowheart's neck before whispering in her ear. "Are you okay with hair pulling?"
She breathes, cheeks flushed. "Yes. Just don't ruin my braid."
I kiss her neck once more, giving it a playful nibble; but in that moment I get a burst of pleasure. Bite her neck. Watch her bleed. Hear her cry. Hear her scream for you once again. I feel my chest lurch as the foul thoughts flood my head. Images flash in my mind that nearly send me into completion. No. Not like this. I close my eyes and hold for a moment.
She glances back at me. "Is everything alright?"
My mind finally settles. "Yes. I'm just having a hard time holding myself back. I want to enjoy this time with you."
I can tell she's smiling, and I gently run her braid across my palm before wrapping it around my hand. I hear her take a sharp breath as I pull her head back. She moves to a more upright position, and I wrap my arm around her body, holding her against me. She reaches out, placing her hands on the altar for stability. "Gods, Vash..."
I get chills as she says my name. My hand travels up the front of her armor before curling gently around her neck. Vile images flash in my mind as the madness intrudes on the moment. Shadowheart's pleas for rescue from her pod. Shrill and frightened. Her body lying on the beach, my fingers dragging across her neck. Squeezing. Lightly. I feel the sensations of strangling Nettie and seeing the blood sputtering from her mouth. Gripping. Tightly. Her name drips from my mouth like a dark prayer. "Shadowheart..." She inhales with a quiet gasp, reaching behind and gripping my cloak tightly, pulling me into her. Her body flexes as she leans deep into me, letting out a silent cry. I feel her pulse racing as passion blooms into pure euphoria. A torrent of pleasure washes over me and I release into her. Salvation from the smoldering mania that was burning away my self-control. Her orgasm deepens mine and I lean my forehead onto her shoulder as I drain everything into her. Breath heavy and satisfied.
I shudder, awash with a hum of dark energy. It's alluring but doesn't harmonize with the fabric of my soul. If this is Shar's power, then she is not the one who fuels me. I release Shadowheart, and she bends forward, catching her breath. It's only then I realize how tightly I had been gripping her neck. Red welts rise where my nails dug in. She didn't protest, but what concerns me is that I didn't feel myself doing it. Another lapse. The violent thoughts are tugging at my grasp on reality. I can't let that happen, especially in moments like this. Intimacy is supposed to build trust, and if I don't rectify this, I'll lose my sway over her, over all of them. "Shadowheart, are you alright? I didn't mean—"
She briskly slaps me across the face, "Be more mindful next time!"
I put a hand on my cheek and see she's giving me a playful grin. I respond with a half-hearted smile, "Next time? Sincerely though, I will be more present going forward. I couldn't help but lose myself in you. Please, let me take care of it." I reach out to touch her neck with a healing hand, but she pulls away.
"I told you I could handle you. Stop treating me like I'm delicate. You've been doing it since we met, and I'd hoped you'd know better by now." She ties her leggings back into place before leaning against the altar, watching me.
"I never doubted your strength, but I've clearly been far too polite. I'll be sure to be a bigger jackass going forward." I'm able to coax a giggle out of her. I pin my belt back into place and lift her onto the altar, sitting next to her so we can take a moment to ourselves.
I notice her softly soothing her neck, and she's glancing at me from the corner of her eye, wanting to say something but not knowing how to say it. "You knew who I worshiped, didn't you?"
I straighten my lips, and lean back, "It's uncharacteristic for a Cleric to be so guarded about who they worship, but when you worship The Mistress of Secrets herself, it's to be expected. Your distaste for Selûne only further reinforced my suspicions." I reach over and tap the plate armor in the center of her chest, "Besides, your armour is clearly Sharran."
Shadowheart flushes, "I'd be impressed with your observational skills if I weren't so damned disappointed in myself for being obvious." She sighs and leans her head on my shoulder, "So you knew that defiling this altar would please Lady Shar, but then... why did you want to commune with her at all?"
I rest my head on hers in kind, "I was hoping the communion might give me a sense of whether Shar is the one who empowers me."
"I understand why you would think so, but the dark magic imbued by your God is acrid and violent. I honestly don't know what to make of it. Shar's power is a cold and silken void that embraces everything it touches." She speaks wistfully as she describes the sensation.
Her description is a perfect representation of the sensations of Shar. "It was comforting, despite it feeling out of resonance with myself. I'm glad to have experienced it either way." I let a moment pass before speaking again, "Were you really concerned about the grove? It seems trivial given Shar's tenets."
She considers my question, but is noticeably hesitant, "Of course not. I wanted to gauge your stance on the grove. It's refreshing to know such things won't stand in the way of our survival. I commend you for that."
She believes herself, but her cold ambivalence is poorly masked. "How long have you worshipped Shar?"
She sits up and looks at me, resting her hands in her lap neatly, "30 years. When I was young, I found myself lost in the forest, cornered by a dire wolf." She pauses, trying to cope with the fear stirred by the memory, but quickly tames it, "A group of Sharran's came forth and surrounded the beast, striking it down. I was an orphan, so they took me in and raised me, trained me, gave me a family. Lady Shar is the only mother I've ever known."
"You must be very important to her, to have gone through so much trouble to shepherd you." A lot of trouble indeed, for a group of Sharrans to stumble on a random orphan lost in the wilderness. I get a faint recollection of a Selunite ritual. Children are sent into the forest to fend for themselves and find their way back home. It's brutal, but an effective way to engender empathy for any aspiring cleric. If this is the case, the irony would be delicious. It's not lost on me that I know so much about different religious orders. Doctor? Priest? Warrior? Each new piece of me only serves to estrange me further from any sense of who I am.
She's comforted by my validation, "Thank you, I'd like to think so. I love her dearly."
Astarion leans into the room with that tone of his, "Are you two done yet? I want to get out of this stinking hell's pit."
I'd be shocked if I knew him less, "I'm surprised you didn't want to join the fun."
He gives me a wildly exaggerated shake of his head, responding in a sing-song tone, "Nooooo... touch my hair and lose your fingers!"
"Hah! Dramatic, every damned day of your life." I get to my feet and turn to help Shadowheart from the altar one last time.
Lae'zel storms in, her frustration reaching a fever pitch, "Enough! I tire of ferrying goblin guards. I will no longer stand idle while you cling to the half-elf, Vash. You've been far too indulgent, and your lack of discipline is causing me to rethink this entire alliance!" She stares daggers at Shadowheart and her words cut with the white-hot flame of jealousy.
I honestly had no idea she cared so much about me. Being handed opportunities like this is the highlight of my day. I turn to my little cleric with a broad smile, "Are we done with our stolen moment, Shadowheart?"
She wrinkles her nose at me with a cheeky grin.
Lae'zel stiffens and shouts, "Enough! March, now!" We are all but pushed out by the raging githyanki, back into the throes of survival once again.