makinglies | The Shadowfell

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faerun

The Shadowfell

Shadowfell

During the early, blue dawn of the morning, a hole opens in the Material Plane. The energy hums no differently than it had in the facility in Duplicity that had brought them here in the first place. This time, however, just before breaching the glowing white surface of light, a chill greets those who pass through. One, two, three, four shadows step through the light before it closes with barely a pop of energy beside the austere white marble of the recently recast temple.

Waiting on the other side of the gate is a land of barren monochrome. Plants like ash, rivers with the consistency of blood, and pools of thick, dripping ichor decorate a land of black and grey stone that connects to an equally grey sky. The life, like the color, seems gone from the land, and where there should have been unearthly silence, there were low murmurs and ominous creaks and noises that didn't quite make sense at the periphery of everything.

The landscape, at least, could not be called flat. Great, black mountains broke the dim, grey sky like blotches of ink on canvas. Even the group of armed visitors stood now upon a tall, but sloping hill marked with a single, gnarled tree. At the foot of the hill, ahead of the group, sat the hazy, black scar of what was once a city.

Spires of buildings stood as broken bones in the place Melvaunt had as its mirror, with the shattered docks even dipping into a charcoal ocean beyond it. Maléfell, once a town inhabited and infested in equal measure with ghosts, gasts, dopplegangers, and malice, now festers with a malevolent haze that visibly shrouds the city. At its edges, just outside the haze, is a pulsating mass. It's upon closer inspection that the mass gains definition: bodies. Undead. Skeletons. Ghosts haunting black ooze and rotted corpses that press at the Darkland's edges, daring to neither venture in nor go too far from their home.

Hundreds of the displaced mill about, gorging on more of the black ichor that fills the waterways into the city. Here they wait, trapped, the sounds of them muffled and nearly silent in the blanketing nothing of the Plane around them.

♥

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"I love you, too. Matron's breath, I've missed you so much," he says almost in a whine, desperate despite being sated physically. He pulls her against him again in a fierce hug. "I thought- I saw you every day in my addled state back then. I'm still terrified I'm going to come to in a room alone, strapped to a machine, with you out of reach."

His next breath shudders out harshly, but he manages to master himself, even if his voice is thick when he speaks again. "This feels more real, now. Not that you didn't feel real before, but... You know what I mean."

Its the very same thing he feels that she's said already. He can breathe again. He loosens his grip so he can see her again and presses his palm to her cheek. "I will never leave you again, not while I draw breath."

He pulls her in and she instinctively wraps an arm protectively around his head as she braces herself with her other hand. She couldn't have said it before, but she needed this reassurance, too. Wolfe has always been such a physical person, sharing his deepest thoughts and feelings through touch rather than words. Hearing he feels more settled helps, but that tight hug says it even more loudly.

"Nor will I leave you." She rests her hand over his, leaning into his palm as she smiles down at him. "You have the whole of me, Wolfe, just as you have since the first time I told you I loved you. Just as you will for however long we can be together in this life and whatever the Raven Queen grants us in death."

There's an itch in her mind to ask him now, to smooth over her mistake during Tumenalia with a proper question, but she bites her lip to keep it in. This isn't the right time. They're not written into the Weave yet, not free of the risk of Tranquility for him, and they still haven't spoken to Chris about... what they just did without him. It can wait. She can wait at least a little longer for this.

"I'm with you, love. Now and always, no matter what comes."

He nods, still panting a little not just from the exertion but from the resettled weight of their situation. It's better, lighter, in the manner of stress he didn't realize he was carrying until it was lifted from him. Saying he can breathe again is quite literal.

This time when he leans up to kiss her its slow, a meditative gesture of unhurried affection. He barely pulls away when they part, pressing his forehead against hers and holding her head in his, against his heart. "We should get cleaned up, but I'm loathe to let you go."

"You make it difficult to let you go," she chuckles, kissing him once more for good measure. He's right that they should clean up, though, or at least get off the floor. That can't be good for him after a month's confinement.

"I'll cut you a deal: we get up and wash now, and later you can rest an arm around me and read while I fix your pants." Again. She huffs a laugh at herself and cuts off all complaints with another kiss. "And you'll have me at your side all night. I don't want to sleep in any bed that doesn't have you in it for at least another few months."

"Hmm, alright. I do have to wash the clothes and make something to eat, though. You'd best stay close at hand in case I become faint for lack of your lips on mine while I work." He tilts his head back dramatically, trying not to thunk it against the floor and mostly succeeding. Enough that he doesn't wince, anyway.

Another kiss and he's sitting them up, shaking his head to get his wet hair out of his face and only succeeding in messing it up further as it sticks to his forehead. He snorts in amusement then makes a bit of a face when he can smell how ashy they still are. "Alright, washing up now."

He raises a hand as if to magic the soap to it, but stops before actually calling on his mana. "Ah... can you reach the soap?"

"As if that's any kind of hardship," she teases. She can't catch his head before it touches the floor, but she can soothe it with a few gentle strokes as they sit up.

Her fingers move to his when he stops short of pulling the soap to them with his magic. She's proud of him for catching the reflex and not draining himself further for a task she'll happily do for them. Not only because of his use of magic earlier but simply because it affords her a very good opportunity.

"Of course, love. Hold on." She pulls his fingers close to kiss the tips before pressing them to her side and encouraging him to let them slide over her skin as she stretches to grab the soap. She's pleased to find it's her lavender soap again and she eagerly begins to build up suds in her hands before offering the bar to him with a playful smirk.

"Let me know where you need help reaching. I've been told I have very skilled hands for whatever work I put my mind to."

He slides his fingertips over her lips as she pulls away, tracing feather-light from neck to shoulder where he goes from fingers to palm and maps the rest of her side. He's pleased to know he can still tell her curves from any other just by feel. He can't help but run his hand down her side to her stomach and feel the bandy muscle twist pleasantly under his palm as she reaches for the soap.

"Would you believe I've suddenly lost the use of my arms, so everywhere?" He wiggles his eyebrows at her as he says it, sliding his hand a bit down and back towards himself to skate on her thigh. They... probably shouldn't go again, for propriety's sake. Jon and Chris will probably be in soon, if they haven't come in already and he just didn't hear them. Entirely possible.

The thought doesn't make him move his hand away, though.

Fuck. She knew what she was inviting with placing his hand on her, but she didn't think she would be so tempted by any of his touches as to consider pushing him against a wall so she can straddle his legs and ride him. Yet the reaction is instant, heat building deep in chest and between her legs, reflected in her face and the way she's suddenly breathless. Even the soap gives her way with how close she comes to sending it across the stall by gripping one side too hard.

"You're incorrigible," she huffs, laughing at herself as she sets aside the soap and starts to spread the suds over his chest. This is distracting in a way that lends itself to his unspoken idea and it takes her far too long to breathe through the first waves of desire to focus on actually cleaning him rather than simply enjoying the feel of his torso beneath her palms.

"There's no way I stay quiet enough that the others won't hear us," she warns, pressing further into him and sliding her bare chest against his soaped one. It does nothing to help with any sort of cleaning, but it's not really meant for that. "And that's assuming they didn't already hear us and walk back out. Dreams know I didn't have a thought in my head but you after you kissed me into that wall."

"No? You couldn't be quiet even if you tried?" He teases, sucking in a breath as she presses herself against him. It's not been quite long enough but he can feel the heat pooling between his own legs all the same. He reaches up to flick one of her nipples teasingly, fingers slipping in the suds. Its fair play after she'd dragged her nails across his chest while sudsing him up, however intentional or not that had been.

Leaning in to murmur in her ear, Wolfe slides his arms around her again, hands sinking low to cup and knead at her ass. "I think you could be quiet if you tried very hard, my heart. Of course, I might make it somewhat difficult."

To make it point, he nips at her earlobe, squeezing with his hands and pulling her into his lap once again so her legs are forced apart around his waist just a little bit further than they were before.

This is a dangerous game to play, but Gods, he's missed this along with everything else. It's alright, isn't it? They're in love, deeply and desperately, so even if this might be brought on by residual influence from his time held captive, its not as though he's throwing himself at a stranger. It's because its her in his arms again after too long apart.

Even so, the creeping doubt does slow his hands a bit.

"I-I could try, but--" But the last time they played this game, in the park in Duplicity, she failed spectacularly. They're lucky the city was playing porn for them all or everyone there would've known the truth of what they were up to. Warmth spreads from her cheeks to her neck at the thought and from the way he spreads her. Dreams, this is a terrible idea with Chris and Jon due to come inside any moment, but maybe...

It's the slowing of his hands that finally recaptures her attention. Something is on his mind that isn't the two of them being together, and that's the kind of distraction that deserves to be addressed. She touches his shoulder, then slides her hand down his arm until she can capture his and twine it with hers between them. If that doesn't bring his full attention back to her, she's certain the way she leans her head back just enough to look at him will.

"You live to make my life difficult with your affections, but that's not all that's on your mind right now, is it?" Her voice is gentle and warm with no hint of teasing or upset. "What is it, love? What's in your mind that's distracting from the pull of your heart?"

The way she takes his hands and leans back, however gentle, is like a splash of cold water and he's grateful for it. He was starting to feel a little off, and somehow she knows without him saying a word. It makes his chest squeeze as he stills to look up at her.

"I'm sorry." He wets his lips with his tongue but hurries to continue before she believes he's apologizing for what they'd just done. That needed no apology. "Not for making love to you, obviously, but I'm not sure- I know I'm the one who's pushing for more, but I can't tell if it's because it's what I really want or because I'm..."

Desperate. Conditioned.

Broken.

None of it is anything he wants to voice. Yet if he doesn't say as much now she's going to think its her fault somehow and that's worse than bearing his damage to her.

"I love you, and I always want you, that's why I want to make sure whatever we do, whenever we do it, that its because of that love and honest desire, not because I'm... trained to want to continue." The word feels dirty in his mouth, but at least he got it out. He remains tense, glancing away from her in shame but still holding her hands in his. "I can't tell right now which it is. I'm sorry."

"Hey." Amelia touches his face with her free hand, catching his attention but not forcing him to look up at her. When she knows he's listening, she turns his face enough to gently press their foreheads together. "If that worry is in your mind now, then we wait. We'll prove to you with time and patience that your wants are your own, and that it's all right to want to be with us as much as you crave. Dreams know if you hadn't slowed us, my 'resistance' would have faded away in seconds."

It's not her fault that his thoughts turned this way and that he's now questioning himself. She knows it's not. Still, she worries her usual soft-willed resistance to his advances triggered some of this. That's something for her to deal with later, though, because her attention needs to stay on him.

She presses a soft kiss to his temple and rests her cheek against the top of his head as she slips her arm around his back. "It's all right, love. We can take things slow when you're ready, like the first time we made love in the shower at Shadows' Rest. I've missed being taken apart completely by your hands and love. No one could ever do the same for me."

He does look up when she touches his face, watching her eyes as she gives him words of comfort and security, then letting his own slide shut just to listen and feel. The way she slides her arm around him, how she kisses his head and presses her cheek against his crown in a subconsciously protective way, it does more to put his heart at ease than any sex they could have had.

"I don't know how you could ever doubt you're enough when you're perfect," he sighs against her, holding her close as she holds him. "I promise I'll sort myself out, and when I do I'll take you apart like the queen you are, in loving reverence. I want to get through this and be myself for you. You deserve nothing less than my best."

He's just afraid that his best might be out of reach for some time. He knows he can't be perfect, none one is and he for one loves a mess when their situations are reversed, his ability to help sort through such problems making him feel useful and of service and knowing she's trying for him is the headiest sort of compliment. It's the trying that's important, not the success. Success is never guaranteed but effort is. If that's true of her, then it should be true of him too.

"I'll try. For you, I'll try anything to get us back to where we want to be."

"I'll only consent to being a queen if you'll be my king beside me," she counters, lightly teasing but still entirely earnest. "And then Chris can be our king and Jon the archivist he always wanted to be." A family of castoffs made into royalty by the virtue of what they want to be for each other. She hugs him gently, holding them close to one another. "But I'm in no rush for any of this, love. We both know it'll take far longer for me to work things out for myself and to feel whole enough that I'd agree out loud that I'm well."

Everything she is, whatever little that may be in times like this, is always for those she chooses and loves. Perhaps one day she'll feel it's true, that she is enough and that Wolfe's compliments about more than her strength or beauty will affirm what she knows rather than prop her up enough to keep going, but it will take time to get there. Days, weeks, months, possibly longer or possibly never. Hells, maybe she needs a good knock in the head or another upheaval in her life to prove what everyone around her knows to be true. For now, it can wait. As ever, what she needs or what she wants waits when those she loves need her help.

"We'll find our way, love. I don't doubt that in the least. Things have been hard for a while, but we're together again." She nuzzles him with her nose and kisses into his hair, smiling to herself. "I love you, and I believe in us. We have one another and things will get better because we want them to and will work for it."

Nothing can stop them now. If Duplicity couldn't keep them apart and the Raven Queen didn't reject them, there is nothing that will keep them from finding their way together.

"I love you and I believe in us."

Another thing he's going to need to put in his journal so he can look at it when he needs those words. It keeps him bolstered and not dragged down by doubt as they finish their washing up. It's a warm feeling, settling and comfortable where things could have taken a turn for the dark in his mind. She seems happier too, and he can't help but think that some of that is his doing. She'd been telling him since she got him back that she wanted to be intimate and he'd pushed her away. Not for a silly reason, but unreasonably in retrospect. They should have talked. Matron, why doesn't he ever think to just talk when it comes to his own issues?

Thankfully he doesn't have enough energy to lament it more than the once. Instead he gets into a change of clothes, hurries through scrubbing their laundry, and sets the wet garments to dry on the line so he can sit ensconced with Amelia that much faster. Of course, he realizes he'd forgotten to make any food after he's already snuggled up and comfortable with a book and his girlfriend with needle in hand.

"Drat. I guess food will have to be someone else's problem." He's sure as hell not getting up.

It's easy to fall into the domesticity of life again with Wolfe at her side. Bathing and cleaning are trivial matters, and the couches Chris added to this temple is as comfortable as the pillow pit they've been sleeping in. It's honestly difficult not to fall asleep, which is why she's grateful for the work to keep her mind busy. Adding a second color of thread to Wolfe's pants because of her needy behavior earlier also helps when it's so funny.

His question makes her laugh softly. "Do you think Chris and Jon will bring back any game to cook? I have a feeling we're eating conjured food again." Even if they know to hunt something, she has a feeling Jon will protest. Blood isn't a thing he handles as well as the rest of them do.

She hums thoughtfully as she finishes a line of stitches. "Should we send the girls after them? They've been gone for a long while now, and they could find something to go into a stew at the same time."

"That's a fantastic idea. I wonder where they got off to..." He leans his head back so he's not yelling directly in Amelia's ear and calls for the dogs. There's a jingling of tags as the girls heed their master's call, trotting over from somewhere in another room of the temple. Wolfe isn't sure where; he'd not really cataloged what Chris put in it this morning. They'd been too focused on the task ahead.

"You know, I don't think there's any need for these anymore," he shifts around so he can remove the girls' collars. Both immediately shake their heads and Cookie sits to give herself a good scratch. "There we are. It's not as if anyone knows where Marzipan Terrace is if they get lost, nor could get there anyway."

He snorts at his own joke then shakes his head, gesturing to his arm with the raven feathers down the back so Patience knows who he's talking about. "Patience, take your sister and hunt down Chris and Jon. They're probably not too far."

Patience does her customary boof and bow to show she understands. Cookie finishes scratching and gives a languid yawn. Wolfe gives an amused sound and kisses Amelia's cheek, making to get up. "Sorry, Love. They don't have thumbs."

The girls come to join them and Amelia can't help but smile. How often they had similar moments in Duplicity, only without the need to rescue the rest of their family. Wolfe's right that they don't need the collars anymore, though; they're free of the one place they would be necessary.

"Fine," she sighs dramatically, sitting up so her mage can extricate himself. "But when you return, I'm laying myself in your lap and you'll simply have to deal with that kind of distraction while you read." She winks at him, not meaning it in a sexual way at all but if she's being honest with herself... that's always a possibility now that they've found their way back to one another. Time will tell.

She sees the dogs off with a wave before finishing the last necessary stitches to fix the trousers in her hands. A few more in strategic places will help them stay together better until they can buy more clothes, but they can wait. If she were asked, she'd say almost everything could wait right about now.

"Get back over here," she calls after Wolfe from the couch after he's let the girls out, "and remind me to tell Chris tomorrow's temple needs a doggie door for them." It'll save all of them a lot of trouble.

"Not a bad idea. If anything undesired comes in, the girls could handle it," he agrees, obediently sliding back in behind her so she can drape herself on him as she pleases. As he pleases too, honestly.

"Do you think we'll head to Bastilla tomorrow or that they'll want another day? I don't really mind either way," but if they do stay another day, they'll definitely need to have that talk with Chris, and he should spend some of that time studying. He's not sure if this is part of the blessing or not but since he's been reading this afternoon, he's retained more than he had from all his study with Jon yesterday.

Lover returned to her, Amelia rests her upper body across Wolfe's lap, head propped up on the arm rest of the couch so she can watch his face as they chat. This is a far better view than her stitches or his book, she's certain.

"I could use another day's rest before we go to Bastila," she admits, reaching for one of his hands. After so long apart and without his touch, she can't help but want to hold onto him as much as she can. "I'll need to check my gear, repair my shirt, and adjust a few more of the clothes Chris got for us." A beat, and her smile up at him warms. "I have something to give you before we go, too. I meant to give it to you before we went to the Shadowfell, but last night was... not the right time."

Her smile holds for a moment longer before her cheeks flush and she lifts a hand to stop him from saying anything. "I-it's nothing romantic or overstepping like I've done in the past, I swear. It's practical. Something you'll need for protection and general use, really."

Dreams, she... didn't need to say that, did she? It was likely obvious. She groans and covers her face with her free hand. "Maybe I should just get it now and spare us both from my fumbling."

He's about to say that he'll suggest it then, if she wants to stay, but then she says what she does about having something to give him and his eyebrows raise. He's about to reply to that and she keeps talking instead of letting him speak, culminating in his barking laugh when she covers her face. He playfully puts a finger against her lips so he can get a word in.

"Go on, then, before you talk yourself out of it," he chuckles. "Though I have no idea where or when you had time to get anything other than what you brought with you since we arrived."

Rather than attempt to tell him that it did in fact come with her from Duplicity, she nods and hops to her feet, cheeks still a bright red. She rummages in her bag for a moment, taking care to pull his mug from Shadows' Rest out so she can't knock it over or break it in her haste to find her prize, then makes her way back to Wolfe with the last remaining feather dagger in hand. Before he can say anything or ask any questions, she pushes the sheathed blade into his hand and sits beside him.

"I brought the last one with me from Duplicity. I wasn't certain what I'd do with it, but I didn't want to leave it behind. It was never going to Aloïs even if I did return to Ragneux." For the myriad reasons she's explained before when speaking about the rogue and her decision to leave what happened between them in the city in the past. "LIEs took what I gave you in friendship and affection, and I'll not let them get away with that. These are my knives I had made for my chosen men, and I want you to have this one."

She looks up with a small, hopeful smile and then back down at his hands quickly. Whatever his reaction, she's not certain she can take it in fully if she's looking at him when she's so breathless and nervous about this whole thing.

She puts the knife in his hand and he's not sure what to say. It means quite a lot to him and he wants to say as much but he's also a sentimental man. He knows if he were in her shoes, he'd not be able to give up something so precious. A last remnant of a relationship he'd held so dear. Dear enough to her that she'd mourned for over a year. She'd kept Alois' room just the same as the day he vanished and it had been a trial for her to let go of that.

That's what she's giving to him. That devotion.

He's not sure he could do the same, not like that. All he has of Anders is the ring, and he's not sure he'll ever take it off the cord around his neck. Maybe she just doesn't see it the same way, but to Wolfe, Amelia has just proven herself stronger with this gesture than he will ever be.

Holding the sheathed knife against his chest, Wolfe tips Amelia's chin up with his other hand. When her eyes meet his, he leans in and kisses her slowly and with all affection. "Thank you. I know how much this means to you; I'll keep it close."

He couldn't possibly understand what it means to her to have him accept this. A piece of herself that she gave only to those who mattered to her most. Something she made once and never again despite opening her heart to others. This blade was made for a man she loved, and the one who carried this one who doesn't exist anymore. It needs to go where it was meant to be: in the hands of someone she loves who will use it well. There is nowhere else for it to be when his own is lost to time and a plane she hopes blinks out of existence one day.

Aloïs, the one who lived and breathed and loved in Duplicity, would be proud of her for this. She didn't need any push to move on in this way.

She rests a hand on the back of his neck as they kiss, the other resting lightly on his chest to keep herself from pressing too close. "Protect our family with this, love. That's all I ask." Not her, not only Chris and Jon, but all of them. They're bound to one another for better or worse, and this blade's work is meant for a cause like this.

There's a small gathering of tears in her eyes as she looks up at him. "It's only a knife, but I trust it'll serve you as well as the other did. As far as I know, these blades have never done any of us wrong."

"I know its not only a knife, Love," he replies softly, kissing her tears away and holding her close against him if she'll allow it. She's holding herself apart but he's certain its for his benefit and not her desire to do so.

Carefully, he sets it aside for now so the knife is still close and he can use both arms to hold her. Later he'll attach it to his belt and there it will always be, whenever he needs it, but for now he needs his hands free. He shifts, tugging her so he can recline on the couch with her laying on him comfortably, head against his chest. With one hand on her back, he picks up his book again with the other. "Here, we'll study together until my girls bring the boys back."

Or they'll fall asleep like this, but that would be alright too.

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