makinglies | Respite

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faerun

Respite

The lake is dark and calm with a small breeze by the time they arrive at its shores. The stars above reflect perfectly in the still waters before them, and a small copse of trees lines one side, starting on their side of the river and jumping along the other side.

Chris takes a moment to re-prepare the spell he hadn't been able to cast in five years and gestures vaguely to the area around them as a suggestion for what the others can do. Gathering in the forest, sitting on a nearby over-turned log, it didn't matter to him. What he needed was an hour without interruption.

He settles down on the ground and presses his hands together as he closes his eyes to focus on the image in his mind. Within minutes, the white, shimmering outline of a large building forms in thin air. The gentle glow of its light barely spreads from the growing structure.

As promised, it takes the full hour before the slowly filling-in form is complete and finishes with a jaunty, echoing click.

Chris takes a breath, now sitting in front of the stoop that looks annoyingly like the one he'd passed earlier in the night, and gets back onto stiff legs as the glow fades away, leaving smooth, but otherwise unremarkable, white stone behind.

"Here we are. Home for the next however long we need. I'll start working on food and water next." Once they're inside, anyway, which is why he takes back his things from where he'd left them and leads them into the temple, marked only with the carving of ravens on the black wood of the double doors.

Inside is something just shy of opulence. The same polished white stone makes the walls, though black and gold veins course through the marble. The floor is the inverse, a black stone with white, shimmering speckles like a night sky if looked at for long enough. A single window faced East high up on the wall. The temple was alight with sconces at regular intervals along the walls, illuminating an open area that held all the offerings of comfort Chris could think of.

A large hot-springs-like bath, complete with a miniature waterfall, took up the left side of the room and ran into a smaller, similar bath at dog-height. Next to it, covered by a retractable screen, was a shower. Along the back wall, a raven's head emblazoned the white wall in black and watched out over a set of tables, chairs, and a couple of sofas. The majority of the center was clear for walking, but the right edge and right side of the room held a deeply inset pit of pillows, cushions, and blankets in various soft (black and purple) fabrics.

Finally, in the middle of the right-hand wall, there were two closed doors that, when inspected, revealed one room with a large, soft chair and rug, while the other room was made of nothing but stone with jars, pitchers, and plates on shelves along two walls and a cork wall perfect for catching daggers on the other side.

"I hope it works for everyone. I didn't...I didn't make separate bedrooms this time. I didn't figure we would need them tonight."

♥

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Chris is taking things in good humor. Small relief for the Archivist's nerves. "Hmm... I don't know. Everyone seems to have decided they're keeping their hands to themselves. Can you manage that if I'm stood with you? I wonder. I'd certainly be... impressed."

He keeps his voice pitched low. Loud enough to be heard over the shower, but hopefully not enough it's going to carry to Wolfe and Amelia.

He opens his mouth to point out they haven't had any sort of conversation yet, but cuts himself off when he realizes he hadn't even gotten so far as to mention they might need to have that sort of conversation.

"I do enjoy impressing you; it's a weakness of mine, I admit." The soap washes away, and he leans a little closer to the partition to keep his voice low enough not to be heard by anyone else in the temple but the man on the other side of it.

"Whatever anyone else does, I fully intend to keep my hands to myself to your comfort. You've no need nor requirement to do anything more than you ever wish to again. However attracted I am to you, your comfort is my priority. Just so we're clear." And perhaps the wall can spare them both the depth of that earnest clarification for at least a moment.

Jon's smirk fades away at Chris' words. He'd known they were escaping quota coming here. Known that the whole dom and sub nonsense would be behind them. Having the reminder sends his heart into his throat as a sudden wave of relief hits. He doesn't have to have sex or watch sex or be threatened with sex constantly anymore. It's a choice. It's an actual choice again. Not the sort of no-win devil's bargain of Duplicity. No panic that he might get sent to a SLUT Center or aphros twisting him around and making him want when he might not have.

It's with some effort that Jon swallows down that swell of emotion, grateful for the partition. Chris doesn't need to know how that affects him. "I know. I- There was never any doubt." Another breath. "I know you have interests I don't, but I do enjoy indulging you now and again, and I'll never say no to your touch.

"Unless I'm making you work for it, of course." There. There, they're back on track and he doesn't have to think about how close he'd come to tears for a simple reassurance.

Edited 2025-11-14 21:16 (UTC)

The water is a gentle thrum, the partition muffles some of the emotion in Jon's voice...but not enough when he's got a cleric keyed into every rise and fall of his voice and every pause or stutter of his breath. The floor of the shower is treated to Chris's affectionate smile, and he presses a hand to the partition as if he might be able to phase through it and put his palm against his partner's face.

"Of course. I do enjoy that game...As I enjoy and appreciate your indulgences. I might also be inclined to touch with the intent of teasing now and again...but never too far without your explicit permission. I think I want that between us for a little while: the space to give permission because we can."

Besides, it would probably help them find a new normal for themselves. Their physical and intimate relationship had been built around so few chances to make a conscious choice to be intimate. They could use the resetting of base between them. "And if you get some soap in your eyes and they seem a little red-rimmed after this from all of that, I'll entirely understand." He pauses briefly. "Are you going to stay all the way over there?"

The emotion grips at his throat again, and Jon squeezes his eyes shut tightly. It's only made worse when Chris makes it clear he knows what this is doing to Jon. Embarrassment mixes with everything else, and there's a part of him that wants to leap into the other stall and kiss away Chris' clever words until he can't think to know him like that. And why shouldn't he? There's nothing stopping him, nothing compelling him. It might be something Chris wants, but that's all right, too. Especially if he ends up being left blue-balled for his kind teasing.

Jon moves. He's not particularly stealthy about it as he shifts from his own stall and into Chris'. His modesty is a little less delicate here where they're meant to be naked, and the Archivist walks up to cleric, grabs his hair and pulls him down into a hard kiss. His tongue invades Chris' mouth, seeking to silence him. No more talk of soap in eyes. If there's a rim of red in his eyes... no one needs to ever comment on that again.

He can hear the change and can tell Jon's getting closer even before he arrives in the stall with Chris, but the grab of his hair is unexpected enough to earn a surprised and pleased sound as their lips crash together. It's a pleasant thing to be caught in Jon's current, even if he can practically taste the good-natured frustration. All the better, really.

For a long moment, he's content to be caught up in the silencing kiss and the dance of tongues it brings. His nature being what it is, however, means he eventually moves his hands from where they'd naturally fallen to Jon's shoulders and laces them behind his boyfriend's neck and into his wet hair. It's a small shift, but enough of one to use his height to regain his control. Kisses turn shallow and then shift to Jon's jaw and neck, and shoulder before jumping back to his lips. Better to bite and mark them as Chris indulges his possessive flair.

Whenever they do both find air more pressing than the feeling of each other's lips, Chris presses a far sweeter kiss to his Archivist's lips, chin, and cheeks.

"It's a selfish thing, but I will revel in the fact you are mine. Now and always, without question. And I am yours. We no longer need fear being separated. I will always come back to you."

Jon bites his own lips to stifle any sound as Chris kisses and bites his way across the Archivist's body. Small favors those marks aren't likely to last for a while yet with his regeneration. But when that goes away... The idea of walking out of the shower with a hickey to confront Wolfe and Amelia leaves him flustered in a way he thinks might be better served to schoolboys with their crush. Thankfully, Moonsea garb seems to tend toward covering up with how cold it is. He should be able to hide any marks easily enough.

But what if he we wearing a collar?

No. Absolutely not. Not entertaining that thought in the slightest. This isn't the sort of place for that, and he's not interested in it. No.

"Always," Jon agrees once he has hold of his head. "And whatever I need to do to pledge my soul to your Raven Queen. To make sure that holds true in the afterlife, too." He assumes becoming a worshiper will suffice and that all of them will be following that route. "I'm tied to this place. I know that's what the vials were, but I could feel it when we drank them. It was almost-almost like becoming the Archivist. That sense of... completion. Wholeness I didn't know was missing."

His next kiss is softer as he leans against Chris. "I love you... and I really should wash up."

He nods to the mention of following into the afterlife. That promise from both of his boys had been a beacon of hope for a long time now, and perhaps Amelia would want to follow as well?

Though, maybe they’d all rethink that when they saw the Shadowfell tomorrow…

Could he blame them? It was a dreary place to be bound to for what one could assume would be eternity. Saying it and seeing it were different. He’d abide by their decision, regardless.

Besides, the mention of feeling the connection is interesting to hear, he’d never considered what it might feel like to have your soul thread severed or then reattached. It puts wondering into his thoughts even as he bends to meet the kiss.

“Of course. I’ll grant you peace to finish.” Besides, that soreness he’d been expecting was starting to settle in and the scrapes on his feet were incredibly unhappy.

He starts to leave, but pauses in the shower’s doorway. “Do you think your soul was…healing? Finding wholeness again from what either the Eye or your death took?” Morbid, probably, but he’s horribly curious now.

Jon's halfway to grabbing the soap when Chris raises a similar idea to one Wolfe had posited. "I don't know. Maybe?" There's a long pause before he adds, "I hope so. We'd need someone who can see souls to be sure. But if it is... I think it's more like-like lancing a wound. There was a sickness in me it's excised. Being written into the Weave is, I imagine, what's going to actually heal it, or at least patch it with something else."

Which is, in a way, very troubling. "Have you ever heard of severed souls here? Or ones that have been damaged?"

He thinks for a long moment before shrugging slightly with a shake of his head. "Not personally. I've heard of something like that happening when gods or archfiends and fey are involved, but they're rumors and stories. Perhaps will learn more in time...or maybe-" He flashes a smirk at his Archivist. "-your long line of bad luck and bad options to choose from is starting to change just a little. Remember...not everything here is good, but not everything is bad either. Balance is key."

He reaches out a hand to brush along Jon's shoulder, but then heads out to let him clean up. There were towels hung up by the showers this time, at least, and Chris runs one over his hair and chest before wrapping it around his waist.

He glances to Wolfe and Amelia again as he crosses to the room with the wardrobe and smiles to himself at how domestic they look bunched up by the counter like that. How at ease.

Good. That was the bare minimum he'd been hoping for for them. They deserved some normalcy.

It's the thought he continues to turn over in his mind, and what options they might have in Bastila now that the idea had come to him, as he dresses in simple under things and a long-sleeved shirt for the evening.

"You can darn all our socks," she jokes, sort of. It's something that will need to be done, likely fairly often, and be practical. If ever there were a reason to give Wolfe some kind of menial work to be done, fixing up their socks would be one of them. Although, as she thinks on it a few other ideas come to mind.

"You could also learn to knit or crochet to make us more socks or other cold weather items." It's only fair he learn something if she has to by cooking. "And on nights where we don't need anything or you don't feel like working on that, you can always play for us." A beat. Fuck, his lute. Of all the things she didn't think to grab before leaving Duplicity, she didn't grab his lute. She sighs at herself, looking over to Chris when the cleric approaches them.

"Do you think they'll have lutes for purchase in Ilinvur? Or can you include one in a temple in the future?" Wolfe is getting a lute one way or another, but perhaps Chris can provide a temporary one until they can find a replacement for the one she lost.

Out of everything, out of all her compliments to him earlier and his embarrassment over his physique, her skipping asking him about if he'd want to continue wasting his idle time with a lute and practically demanding one from Chris, has him flushing and putting his hands up defensively.

"I'm really not very good, even after all these years. You don't have to if you'd rather not hear it. Darling socks or learning to knit is at least useful."

He’s still swiping at his water-flattened curls when he comes over to his other partners, but he nods to Amelia’s question.

“I can make one for the temple, though a real one will sound better. We can buy one eventually. I’d like another flute at some point as well.” He’d gotten passably ok at it since picking it back up, he’d likely miss it in the calmer days ahead.

He tosses the towel haphazardly towards the laundry area and shrugs at Wolfe. “You’re multi-talented, you can learn all of that. If you’ve got dinner in hand, I’m gonna start cleaning the real clothes we’ve got so we can pick up and move after the Shadowfell. If…if we all think we’re ready to start trying to mingle again. I’ve an idea for some quick coin afore Ilinivur.”

"I washed my and Wolfe's clothes earlier, though our clothes from yesterday could use another go." She got a lot of blood on her clothes during the fight getting out of Duplicity. She smiles softly. "Thank you, Chris. I appreciate your help.

"Though... what do you mean before Ilinvur? Are there places along the road we could stop at for a day or two?" If they could simply Gate to the city, wouldn't that be faster? A larger city would certainly lend itself to more coin. More notoriety for Chris and the Guardians, which could cause them trouble, but that's what disguises are for.

"Doing what?" Wolfe asks, almost in tandem with Amelia's question. Better talking about this than the multiple talents he's not entirely sure he posesses the attention span to nurture.

He shakes his head and crosses his arms casually over his middle.

“It’s along the way were we to walk, but we can Gate there no different. Half a day’s decent travel from Ilinivur is a vacationing town for her rich and elite. Bastila.” He nods to Wolfe. “I might have mentioned the place before: where I debuted and retired my stint as ‘The Carmine Corvid.’ Bastila’s got a fighting ring that brings in lots of crowds and money, there’s places for gambling as well and plenty of coin people don’t know what else to do with it but overpay for others doing inconvenient things for them. Anything from paperwork to menacing rivals, I’d expect. Plus, I don’t care if you cut a few purse strings there.”

Fighting, intrigue, and a lot of coin. Even knowing she didn't come from Ragneux, a place like that piques Amelia's interest. Her lips unconsciously turn up on the one side as ideas begin to wind through her head.

"So when you say 'quick coin', you mean really quick coin." A full grin pulls across her face. "Give me an afternoon of walking through crowds and we could have enough to buy everything we want and more while the rest of you do as you like." Whether that's fighting for more coin or seeing what's on offer at the market before Amelia comes to them with a large amount of gold to be spent.

There's one important question before she gets too far into her planning. "Do they have anyone about that I should be aware of while I have my fun?" Anyone who would cause her, and by extension their entire party, trouble if she steps on toes?

Edited (typo) 2025-11-16 22:21 (UTC)

“I think you have. We threw around team names for a theoretical stint in the arena.” He wouldn’t mind making coin that way. He’d need to be in better shape first though, he’s definitely not as spry as he should be for such endeavors… Though even in his softer state, he’s probably more than a match for lower-grade fighting just based on experience, and if they tag-team, Chris can make up the difference. He’d have to anyway if magic is allowed; Wolfe still won’t use it right now.

“I think it’s a great idea to have some coin earned through there and some through Amelia’s expertise. Better cover if we can say we won it. Jon could place the bet and we could fight as a team,” he gestures to himself and Chris, ”- while Amelia fills our coffers. I think I’m in shape enough for that.”

He brings the backs of his fingers up to brush along his chin.

“The only person I know for certain who goes to Bastila is a blue Dragonborn woman. Velity. Though, honestly, if she or her people are so careless as to be robbed from, that’s not our problem. The guards will be obvious enough, otherwise I trust you to find suitable options.”

As for Wolfe’s part of it…Chris gestures towards where their weapons sit. “We can enter as a team or separate, armed or unarmed. I’d prefer the latter myself, if you’re up for it. You and I can practice a bit too. Between all of us, we can set ourselves up nicely for a little bit.”

And not have to worry about asking Gideon for some kind of allowance or help with the basics.

“Be wary of what we buy there, though, some things aren’t worth the number attached compared to Ilinivur.”

"What team names?" Jon asks as he emerges from the shower, the towel still wringing water from his hair. "Nothing... silly, I hope?" 'Stupid.' His tone says very clearly that he means 'stupid.'

"As for a stop before we head on to Ilinivur, I think that sounds sensible. All the better not to turn up at someone's doorstep asking for too many favors." Jon's not so proud he wouldn't accept the assistance, but that would also put them in more debt to this person, which he'd rather avoid when he has little to offer. Even if Chris might tell them he'd pay any price. "It might also give us a chance to- Chris, are there any temples in the city? One to Mystra, maybe? I won't be much use stealing or fighting." But he can ask questions!

"Choosing targets is something I excel at." Choosing metaphorical battles with the people around her that cause her headaches, heartaches, or anger? That's a lot harder. "We can launder my gains through bets or entrance fees for the fights. I could likely take on a few myself to blow off some steam and learn a bit more about the region's fighting styles."

What? No one ever said she couldn't be pragmatic about why she does things for the group.

She doesn't have a suggestion for a team name, so she leaves it to Wolfe to answer that. Jon does have the right idea with asking about temples, too, so she waits for Chris to answer that. Learning more about the town they'll soon be visiting will be good.

"Unarmed is fine, though I don't mind armed for an individual battle maybe. Chris, your style will likely be too recognizable, not to mention your weapon, so that's for the best. Is there a three on three bout? That could be fun." A grin spreads over his face as he takes the food off the heat and starts doling out bowls.

"It also means you'll not be saddled with a 'silly' team name, Jon. What about... Flight of Fancy, for the three of us? Or Flying Fists?" He makes a motion as if to block an imaginary oncoming blow, feet subconsciously assuming a stance he would use when in combat with his staff.

He shakes his head and takes a seat to wait for food. Laundry could happen after dinner.

“I like flights of fancy. Gotta stick with something half-memorable.” Just enough to be talked about for one day, but forgettable after a good night’s rest.

“We can stick to unarmed and we’re not likely going to be there during one of their big events where they’d have enough attendees for a three on three. That’s better, though, big events have extra security and caution. You and Amelia can have a second go if there’s opportunity for it. Or I’m sure she can handle some fights herself.”

He rests his chin in his palm and shakes his head at Jon as well.

“We’ll need you to place the bets…but beyond that, only Avandra’s got any hold there. She’s a goddess of luck and change. You likely won’t find too much of use but handouts and local knowledge there.”

Jon deflates somewhat as he finishes drying his hair and goes to hang the towel up before finding a seat for himself. "Bets. Right." There has to be something more than that that he can do to pull his weight. But what? He doesn't really have coin to spend. Listening in on rumors isn't useful until they can actually do any sort of adventuring nonsense. If this is a resort town, research resources are likely to be limited and come at a premium price. "I can... study Common between the fights." He knows he shouldn't sulk, especially not when he's fully aware that all of them are anxious over being 'useful.' And somehow failing and being cast out.

"Flights of Fancy isn't the worst possible name. Amelia could just use 'the Shadow Mistress' if she's fighting alone."

"No, I can't use that name. If it's to be associated with me at all in this plane, I can't give it away in a town where I'm thieving at random before we flee to our actual destination." The answer is a little too quick, as if she's already thought about this. The truth is more complicated, but she's not ready to reveal herself that way here. It's too vulnerable for her.

She takes a seat at the table. "I'll pick a common name I hear on the streets when I enter. No need for me to have some catchy name that could be remembered when the day is done."

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cw: reference to non-con/dub-con

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