mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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"Thank you, miss. Thank you."
She spreads her fingers slightly, widening him further, preparing him for something only a little more substantial. The toy she had bought was fairly small, she did not want to hurt him on their first time. Well, perhaps that was a lie considering the purpling bruises over his thighs and ass checks where he had earned his punishments. The marks lick heated desire across her own skin, she imagines again the way he jolted against her, splayed across her lap. Delicious.
"How do you feel?" It's a genuine question, she wants him to be having a good time.
He lets out a quiet whimper, "I'd like to touch you." Tavs free hand lifts to thumb at the tip of his dripping cock.
"That's not what I asked you, kitten."
She waits for him to formulate his response, his hips alternating between trying to take her fingers deeper and trying to get more friction on his aching hardness.
"Good. I-it's a lot, but gods, it's good."
She seems satisfied with this response, sliding her fingers out of his twitching hole which earns her a whine of protest that is cut off when she shuffles forwards to press the hard tip of a strap-on against his cheeks. A hand lifts, and removes his blindfold. He blinks, adjusting to the light, confused.
He finds himself staring at his wife dressed in a strapped leather bodysuit, her eyes dark and staring down at him with a look that dares him to defy her in any way. His mouth is still dry, he swallows. She seems to notice this time.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, miss... it's just that, my mouth is dry."
It amuses her that in this vulnerable, submissive state, Gale loses his flowery language and speaks much more directly. It occurs to her that this is perhaps because he doesn't feel the need to impress her, he feels safe here, and doesn't need to prove his intelligence. He just needs to be hers.
"Do you need a drink?"
He nods, "Yes, I would appreciate that. Thank you."
A pleased yet mischievous grin crosses her face, it makes Gale tingle all over. There is the tiniest spart of fear in his chest that perhaps she will hit him again, and this fear ignites like a burning fire across his skin. He never would have imagined being so aroused at such thoughts, but here he was aching for her contact, desiring for her to strike him again.
She doesn't, instead she shuffles to lift him into a seated position guiding him up with a hand locked firmly into his hair. The pulling tension makes his lips part in a pleased sigh, and then their lips are nearly touching. His head is tilted back and he watches her curiously.
"Mouth open, tongue out."
Her command is followed swiftly, though Gale isn't entirely sure of what is happening there is no desire burning hotter inside him now than the desire to obey. To please. To be commanded by and owned by her.
He grunts in surprise as she leans over him, her tongue sliding over his own. He feels her hot saliva trickle from her mouth and into his. Gods, this is not what he expected and yet he drinks what is given greedily, let's her coat the inside of his mouth, enjoys the feeling and the flavor. He wonders where this idea had come from.
She parts from him several moments later, pleased with the way his cheeks and ears have flushed pink and the way he is panting beneath her.
"May I touch you, please, miss?" He can't help the request, every part of him is aching for her. His hands were no longer tied, but he had understood the rules of the game. Permission was necessary in all aspects.
"You have one minute to touch me."
His eyes light up, and his hands move immediately to her waist, tracing her curves, exploring the ridges and dips of her bodysuit. Almost timidly, he leans forwards and begins to kiss and lick the straps that hug the curves of her body.
"You have no idea how desperate you look right now," She gently tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear, "Just for me. Show me how badly you want this."
He response is a needy little mewl breathed against the skin of her breast, his tongue still tracing the leather over her body. Trembling fingers reach between them to curiously explore the bone appendage strapped to her body. He traces its curves and ridges, taking it in his hands to test its length and girth, learning what he should be expecting.
"This is what you wanted, right?" She asks, referring to the strap.
His lips and tongue separate just barely from her chest, "Yes... I want it, want you."
She lifts his chin with a finger and presses their lips forcefully together. He leans into her, their chests flush against one another. Tav cups Gale's face gently in her hands, caressing him like something precious- and he is.
When they finally part he is laid back gently, open and waiting.
"Tell me if it hurts."
The instruction is brushed aside by Gales gentle smile, full of trust and adoration, "A little pain is welcome, if it means I am yours."
Her heart swells and for a moment she wants to be tender, but that is not what Gale had asked her for. She guides herself in as gently as she can, she sees Gale wince ever so slightly, but his head also tilts back into the pillows. He adjusts slowly to this new sensation gifted to him by the woman he loves.
She waits patiently for him to be ready for her to move. She knows he is when his hips start to move against hers and he starts to make tiny grunts and whines.
She starts slow, rocking against him softly, carefully. It is not long before Gales eyes have fluttered closed and he is moaning in earnest, heels digging into the mattress in search of leverage to push back against her, to get her in deeper, faster. She moves ever so slightly faster and he whines,
"Tav, please, I-"
Her name unprovoked earns him a sharp snap of the hips into him, he cries out, the sudden harsh movement painful, but mostly making his head swim with pleasure.
"Inappropriate," She growls into the sensitive skin of his collar bone before biting down there.
"Sorry," The word is barely an audible gasp, she looks up to meet his eyes. He is so wonderfully disheveled, hair a tossed mess over the satin pillows, lips parted and pink, chest rising and falling with shaking gasps of breath. He looks perfect like this.
She allows her eyes to flutter closed, burying her face in the crook of his neck, licking and nipping at the skin there as her hips move faster. Gales fingers twist in the sheets of the bed, clinging to them for dear life. His eyes snap shut as well, all the sensations becoming almost overwhelming. The rhythmic pounding into his most private places, the way his cock rubbed against her abdomen each time she thrust, her lips and tongue on his neck, her left hand wandering over his chest toying with his nipples. His breathing heavies and his groans grow desperate. He's nearly seeing stars when Tav stops suddenly.
She is brought to a halt when she feels warm wetness on her cheek. She rises to find tears slipping from Gales eyes and guilt clutches at her as those eyes flutter open to meet hers.
"Gale? Gods, did I hurt you? I'm so-"
She is cut off by a whimpered plea, "Don't stop. Please, don't stop, I'm so close." His point accentuated by the rocking back of his hips into hers.
She blinks, surprised. She had never seen him cry from pleasure before, and now that she is sure they are not from pain the fire in her belly only grows. Her movement resumes, "Gods, I want you to come for me."
The question comes about a minute later, after staggering breaths that he seems only to be ble to take when she is fully sheathed in him.
Her eyes find his face again, he is staring up at her with pleading, hooded eyes, hazy and still trickling tears.
"Come? Can I come, please?"
She hadn't been expecting him to ask, but now that he was she finds her breath being pulled from her lungs.
"Ask me properly."
He whines, his thighs shaking, he is trying desperately to wait for permission.
"Please, miss, please let me come for you?" His eyes are squeezed shut, head thrown back in attempt at concentration.
"You will watch."
His eyes barely open, understanding she means he has permission so long as he watches himself. His gaze falls to his reddened, weeping cock bouncing between them.
He can barely keep his eyes open as his orgasm spasms through him, vision spotting white and an involuntary cry of her name on his lips. He paints her and his own abdomen with sticky sweetness and blinks rapidly. His mind is a swirling haze, and before he is able to fully bring himself back to the present he can feel her leaving him.
He groans at the loss, a slight stinging sensation at the edges of his gaping hole from being stretched for the first time.
His hazed mind is barely able to register the sound of metal buckles being undone and something heavy being dropped to the floor, then he is being guided by a firm hand in his hair off the bed and to his knees.
He is just able to make it on his wobbly, gelatin legs, but he sinks to the floor in front of her, looking up expectantly. He is greeted by a cold, unamused stare that makes his chest clench.
"You've made a mess all over my nice new clothes," she caresses his cheek, "Clean it up."
He leans forwards without hesitation, tongue darting out to collect the collected beads of white that drip from her skin and leather harness. He is only interrupted once with a demand from his Mistress to make eye contact. He obeys enthusiastically, determined to please her in any way he can. His eyes only break from hers a few times very quickly to check for spots that he may have missed.
When she is satisfied with his cleaning job, she praises him.
"Good kitten. Now, would you like your reward for being so good today?"
He leans a little further forward expectantly, "Yes, miss. Thank you."
He watches her undo two metal buckles at the front of the bodysuit and slide the bottom half off, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. He is then guided by a firm hand in his hair between her thighs and into her soft, wet folds.
He does not need to he told what to do. This is the prize he has earned, and his tongue laps eagerly between her lips. He dives into her, licking and sucking, teeth grasing her throbbing clit and beard brushing her trembling thighs. She sighs in approval and lets him lavish her with his tongue.
"That's it... You like being treated like a slut, don't you? Like being my little whore?"
It's a test of the waters, she isn't entirely certain Gale will enjoy being called such names but the situation calls for experimentation, and if she never tries then neither of them will ever know, and that would truly be tragic. Thankfully she is responded to with a muffled groan into her dripping folds and she knows he enjoyed it.
"Say it." She wrenches him back by the hair, earning herself a soft whimper.
He responds in a heated whisper against her clit, "I'm your slut."
She hums in satisfaction and pushes him back into place where he resumes his motions with new vigor. She can feel his fingertips tracing at the straps of her heels as his tongue circles her clit. Gale has always had a thing for high heels.
It was in moments like these, with his head planted firmly between her thighs and his tongue delving into her deepest parts that she truly felt he was worshipping her as though she was a goddess. She would never ask him to call her that, she understood what that would mean for him, but the thought still makes heat coil in her, spurned further by his muffled groans and occasional muffled "Thank you's.
It is not long before the heat becomes to much and spills over, rewarding him in earnest with a muscle spamming orgasm that sends a rush of warm liquid over his tongue that he eagerly licks away and swallows. She holds him there for a moment, head spinning, before allowing him to sit back on his heels and take a break.
His mind is a muddled mess, hazed and dazed he blinks up at her unable to speak or move. He feels himself being gently guided, and supported to his feet and back onto the bed, seated at the edge. She leaves him for a moment to some place he isn't aware of. He can't keep track of her or himself, his brain feels like it is suspended in fog, swimming in its thickness.
He blinks and there is suddenly a glass being presented to him. He doesn't have the strength left in him to accept it. She seems to know this as the glass is raised to and placed gently to his lips, the tilted slowly. He takes slow, careful sips, slowly he regains his ability to form thoughts.
The cup, now only half full of water, is placed on the bedside table and Tav folds to her knees in front of him, greeting him with a soft smile and eyes full of love. She takes his hand in hers, squeezing it.
"Was that okay?" The question is timid considering her previous demeanor.
He returns her smile, "Yes. Thank you."
She chuckles, "You don't have to thank me anymore, love. We are done now."
He returns her chuckles without thought, "I know. But still, you did this for me."
"I did. And I would do it again if you asked. I love you, Gale."
He hums, content, "I love you too, Tav."
She crawls onto the bed with him, bringing him carefully up to the pillows and cradling him there. Gale falls asleep in her arms, listening to her whisper sweet words of tender affection. She follows swiftly after.
Gale can tell Tav regrets unpetrifying the Drow wizard.
The two were caught in an exchange in a Drow dialect that Gale could only make out parts of. His eyes darted inadvertently to the Spectator’s corpse next to them, its giant eye fixed in death, long tongue permanently lolled out. He shuddered, remembering how it had caught them off guard as they meandered through the petrified Drow.
Tav had decided to go out the window, not wanting to deal with the lasers that could incinerate them. The group, apparently, thought that was a good idea and was all too quick to agree, so they clamored out the outpost window and found themselves strolling through a garden of living beings now turned statues.
And Tav had almost looked amused looking at - what she assumed were wizards, anyway, from the robes - and Gale could tell she was about to make some sort of joke at his expense before the massive creature appeared before them, singular eye fixated on the group. They were very surprised, and the Spectator easily paralyzed some of them ( most of them) with its claws.
It was a hard battle, barely won and bitterly fought.
And the Drow wizards weren’t much help, either - if not downright hostile - after becoming unpetrified during their fight - and following the Spectator’s defeat, they had gone from victims to, well, jerks pretty quickly.
At least the ones that remained standing.
But, where Tav would usually brush off such confrontations, she had engaged, the interaction drawing out as the two Drow continued to speak in a language Gale couldn’t understand, damned them. Several of the other wizards had backed off, standing behind the one meant to be leading them, the one who was looming over Tav.
Gale felt Astarion poke at the inside of his head as if one of his perfectly manicured nails was nudging the tadpole that nestled there. Then, there was the vampire’s voice bouncing around the cavern of his skull.
You know languages, right, wizard? Can you make out any of this?
Gale rolls his eyes, angry at the intrusion, but thinks back: Hardly. They’re talking too fast. This is a Drow dialect that I’m not quite familiar with, although there are-
Then Shadowheart’s voice was in his head, wondering impatiently: Should we get involved or not?
Gale could barely concentrate on the voices inside his head as his insatiable curiosity gnawed at him. The rapid exchange of words in a dialect he couldn't entirely comprehend was a puzzle begging to be solved.
He strained his ears, trying to catch phrases, any hint of the topic that had ignited such fire between Tav and the Drow. Every syllable they uttered was a piece of a larger tapestry he yearned to see in its entirety.
His chest ached with curiosity. He needed to know and he almost opened his mouth to ask them to switch to Common.
But then the Drow wizard produced something from his pocket. A memory shard. A container onto which brief mental impressions are projected and stored for years at a time. Tav’s face took on a subtle, contemplative expression, her eyes narrowing slightly. The Drow wizard’s response was quick, his face reflecting a sudden realization.
His gaze darted between the two Drow, attempting to glean context from their expressions and gestures.
The weight of not knowing, of being on the periphery of an intense confrontation without the tools to decode it, settled in his chest, a mixture of frustration, fascination, and something else that burned at him.
As the conversation continued, Gale noticed Tav's stance shift subtly, her shoulders squaring off as if preparing for a confrontation. Her conversation partner, on the other hand, seemed to oscillate between defensiveness and mounting desperation. His hand tightened around the shard, his knuckles turning white, but then he would glance at Tav, and that grip would slightly ease.
Until Tav stepped closer, her voice firm and unyielding. Whatever she was saying - it was a command.

"Thank you, miss. Thank you."

She spreads her fingers slightly, widening him further, preparing him for something only a little more substantial. The toy she had bought was fairly small, she did not want to hurt him on their first time. Well, perhaps that was a lie considering the purpling bruises over his thighs and ass checks where he had earned his punishments. The marks lick heated desire across her own skin, she imagines again the way he jolted against her, splayed across her lap. Delicious.

"How do you feel?" It's a genuine question, she wants him to be having a good time.

He lets out a quiet whimper, "I'd like to touch you." Tavs free hand lifts to thumb at the tip of his dripping cock.

"That's not what I asked you, kitten."

She waits for him to formulate his response, his hips alternating between trying to take her fingers deeper and trying to get more friction on his aching hardness.

"Good. I-it's a lot, but gods, it's good."

She seems satisfied with this response, sliding her fingers out of his twitching hole which earns her a whine of protest that is cut off when she shuffles forwards to press the hard tip of a strap-on against his cheeks. A hand lifts, and removes his blindfold. He blinks, adjusting to the light, confused.

He finds himself staring at his wife dressed in a strapped leather bodysuit, her eyes dark and staring down at him with a look that dares him to defy her in any way. His mouth is still dry, he swallows. She seems to notice this time.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, miss... it's just that, my mouth is dry."

It amuses her that in this vulnerable, submissive state, Gale loses his flowery language and speaks much more directly. It occurs to her that this is perhaps because he doesn't feel the need to impress her, he feels safe here, and doesn't need to prove his intelligence. He just needs to be hers.

"Do you need a drink?"

He nods, "Yes, I would appreciate that. Thank you."

A pleased yet mischievous grin crosses her face, it makes Gale tingle all over. There is the tiniest spart of fear in his chest that perhaps she will hit him again, and this fear ignites like a burning fire across his skin. He never would have imagined being so aroused at such thoughts, but here he was aching for her contact, desiring for her to strike him again.

She doesn't, instead she shuffles to lift him into a seated position guiding him up with a hand locked firmly into his hair. The pulling tension makes his lips part in a pleased sigh, and then their lips are nearly touching. His head is tilted back and he watches her curiously.

"Mouth open, tongue out."

Her command is followed swiftly, though Gale isn't entirely sure of what is happening there is no desire burning hotter inside him now than the desire to obey. To please. To be commanded by and owned by her.

He grunts in surprise as she leans over him, her tongue sliding over his own. He feels her hot saliva trickle from her mouth and into his. Gods, this is not what he expected and yet he drinks what is given greedily, let's her coat the inside of his mouth, enjoys the feeling and the flavor. He wonders where this idea had come from.

She parts from him several moments later, pleased with the way his cheeks and ears have flushed pink and the way he is panting beneath her.

"May I touch you, please, miss?" He can't help the request, every part of him is aching for her. His hands were no longer tied, but he had understood the rules of the game. Permission was necessary in all aspects.

"You have one minute to touch me."

His eyes light up, and his hands move immediately to her waist, tracing her curves, exploring the ridges and dips of her bodysuit. Almost timidly, he leans forwards and begins to kiss and lick the straps that hug the curves of her body.

"You have no idea how desperate you look right now," She gently tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear, "Just for me. Show me how badly you want this."

He response is a needy little mewl breathed against the skin of her breast, his tongue still tracing the leather over her body. Trembling fingers reach between them to curiously explore the bone appendage strapped to her body. He traces its curves and ridges, taking it in his hands to test its length and girth, learning what he should be expecting.

"This is what you wanted, right?" She asks, referring to the strap.

His lips and tongue separate just barely from her chest, "Yes... I want it, want you."

She lifts his chin with a finger and presses their lips forcefully together. He leans into her, their chests flush against one another. Tav cups Gale's face gently in her hands, caressing him like something precious- and he is.

When they finally part he is laid back gently, open and waiting.

"Tell me if it hurts."

The instruction is brushed aside by Gales gentle smile, full of trust and adoration, "A little pain is welcome, if it means I am yours."

Her heart swells and for a moment she wants to be tender, but that is not what Gale had asked her for. She guides herself in as gently as she can, she sees Gale wince ever so slightly, but his head also tilts back into the pillows. He adjusts slowly to this new sensation gifted to him by the woman he loves.

She waits patiently for him to be ready for her to move. She knows he is when his hips start to move against hers and he starts to make tiny grunts and whines.

She starts slow, rocking against him softly, carefully. It is not long before Gales eyes have fluttered closed and he is moaning in earnest, heels digging into the mattress in search of leverage to push back against her, to get her in deeper, faster. She moves ever so slightly faster and he whines,

"Tav, please, I-"

Her name unprovoked earns him a sharp snap of the hips into him, he cries out, the sudden harsh movement painful, but mostly making his head swim with pleasure.

"Inappropriate," She growls into the sensitive skin of his collar bone before biting down there.

"Sorry," The word is barely an audible gasp, she looks up to meet his eyes. He is so wonderfully disheveled, hair a tossed mess over the satin pillows, lips parted and pink, chest rising and falling with shaking gasps of breath. He looks perfect like this.

She allows her eyes to flutter closed, burying her face in the crook of his neck, licking and nipping at the skin there as her hips move faster. Gales fingers twist in the sheets of the bed, clinging to them for dear life. His eyes snap shut as well, all the sensations becoming almost overwhelming. The rhythmic pounding into his most private places, the way his cock rubbed against her abdomen each time she thrust, her lips and tongue on his neck, her left hand wandering over his chest toying with his nipples. His breathing heavies and his groans grow desperate. He's nearly seeing stars when Tav stops suddenly.

She is brought to a halt when she feels warm wetness on her cheek. She rises to find tears slipping from Gales eyes and guilt clutches at her as those eyes flutter open to meet hers.

"Gale? Gods, did I hurt you? I'm so-"

She is cut off by a whimpered plea, "Don't stop. Please, don't stop, I'm so close." His point accentuated by the rocking back of his hips into hers.

She blinks, surprised. She had never seen him cry from pleasure before, and now that she is sure they are not from pain the fire in her belly only grows. Her movement resumes, "Gods, I want you to come for me."

The question comes about a minute later, after staggering breaths that he seems only to be ble to take when she is fully sheathed in him.

Her eyes find his face again, he is staring up at her with pleading, hooded eyes, hazy and still trickling tears.

"Come? Can I come, please?"

She hadn't been expecting him to ask, but now that he was she finds her breath being pulled from her lungs.

"Ask me properly."

He whines, his thighs shaking, he is trying desperately to wait for permission.

"Please, miss, please let me come for you?" His eyes are squeezed shut, head thrown back in attempt at concentration.

"You will watch."

His eyes barely open, understanding she means he has permission so long as he watches himself. His gaze falls to his reddened, weeping cock bouncing between them.

He can barely keep his eyes open as his orgasm spasms through him, vision spotting white and an involuntary cry of her name on his lips. He paints her and his own abdomen with sticky sweetness and blinks rapidly. His mind is a swirling haze, and before he is able to fully bring himself back to the present he can feel her leaving him.

He groans at the loss, a slight stinging sensation at the edges of his gaping hole from being stretched for the first time.

His hazed mind is barely able to register the sound of metal buckles being undone and something heavy being dropped to the floor, then he is being guided by a firm hand in his hair off the bed and to his knees.

He is just able to make it on his wobbly, gelatin legs, but he sinks to the floor in front of her, looking up expectantly. He is greeted by a cold, unamused stare that makes his chest clench.

"You've made a mess all over my nice new clothes," she caresses his cheek, "Clean it up."

He leans forwards without hesitation, tongue darting out to collect the collected beads of white that drip from her skin and leather harness. He is only interrupted once with a demand from his Mistress to make eye contact. He obeys enthusiastically, determined to please her in any way he can. His eyes only break from hers a few times very quickly to check for spots that he may have missed.

When she is satisfied with his cleaning job, she praises him.

"Good kitten. Now, would you like your reward for being so good today?"

He leans a little further forward expectantly, "Yes, miss. Thank you."

He watches her undo two metal buckles at the front of the bodysuit and slide the bottom half off, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. He is then guided by a firm hand in his hair between her thighs and into her soft, wet folds.

He does not need to he told what to do. This is the prize he has earned, and his tongue laps eagerly between her lips. He dives into her, licking and sucking, teeth grasing her throbbing clit and beard brushing her trembling thighs. She sighs in approval and lets him lavish her with his tongue.

"That's it... You like being treated like a slut, don't you? Like being my little whore?"

It's a test of the waters, she isn't entirely certain Gale will enjoy being called such names but the situation calls for experimentation, and if she never tries then neither of them will ever know, and that would truly be tragic. Thankfully she is responded to with a muffled groan into her dripping folds and she knows he enjoyed it.

"Say it." She wrenches him back by the hair, earning herself a soft whimper.

He responds in a heated whisper against her clit, "I'm your slut."

She hums in satisfaction and pushes him back into place where he resumes his motions with new vigor. She can feel his fingertips tracing at the straps of her heels as his tongue circles her clit. Gale has always had a thing for high heels.

It was in moments like these, with his head planted firmly between her thighs and his tongue delving into her deepest parts that she truly felt he was worshipping her as though she was a goddess. She would never ask him to call her that, she understood what that would mean for him, but the thought still makes heat coil in her, spurned further by his muffled groans and occasional muffled "Thank you's.

It is not long before the heat becomes to much and spills over, rewarding him in earnest with a muscle spamming orgasm that sends a rush of warm liquid over his tongue that he eagerly licks away and swallows. She holds him there for a moment, head spinning, before allowing him to sit back on his heels and take a break.

His mind is a muddled mess, hazed and dazed he blinks up at her unable to speak or move. He feels himself being gently guided, and supported to his feet and back onto the bed, seated at the edge. She leaves him for a moment to some place he isn't aware of. He can't keep track of her or himself, his brain feels like it is suspended in fog, swimming in its thickness.

He blinks and there is suddenly a glass being presented to him. He doesn't have the strength left in him to accept it. She seems to know this as the glass is raised to and placed gently to his lips, the tilted slowly. He takes slow, careful sips, slowly he regains his ability to form thoughts.

The cup, now only half full of water, is placed on the bedside table and Tav folds to her knees in front of him, greeting him with a soft smile and eyes full of love. She takes his hand in hers, squeezing it.

"Was that okay?" The question is timid considering her previous demeanor.

He returns her smile, "Yes. Thank you."

She chuckles, "You don't have to thank me anymore, love. We are done now."

He returns her chuckles without thought, "I know. But still, you did this for me."

"I did. And I would do it again if you asked. I love you, Gale."

He hums, content, "I love you too, Tav."

She crawls onto the bed with him, bringing him carefully up to the pillows and cradling him there. Gale falls asleep in her arms, listening to her whisper sweet words of tender affection. She follows swiftly after.

Gale can tell Tav regrets unpetrifying the Drow wizard.

The two were caught in an exchange in a Drow dialect that Gale could only make out parts of. His eyes darted inadvertently to the Spectator’s corpse next to them, its giant eye fixed in death, long tongue permanently lolled out. He shuddered, remembering how it had caught them off guard as they meandered through the petrified Drow.

Tav had decided to go out the window, not wanting to deal with the lasers that could incinerate them. The group, apparently, thought that was a good idea and was all too quick to agree, so they clamored out the outpost window and found themselves strolling through a garden of living beings now turned statues.

And Tav had almost looked amused looking at - what she assumed were wizards, anyway, from the robes - and Gale could tell she was about to make some sort of joke at his expense before the massive creature appeared before them, singular eye fixated on the group. They were very surprised, and the Spectator easily paralyzed some of them ( most of them) with its claws.

It was a hard battle, barely won and bitterly fought.

And the Drow wizards weren’t much help, either - if not downright hostile - after becoming unpetrified during their fight - and following the Spectator’s defeat, they had gone from victims to, well, jerks pretty quickly.

At least the ones that remained standing.

But, where Tav would usually brush off such confrontations, she had engaged, the interaction drawing out as the two Drow continued to speak in a language Gale couldn’t understand, damned them. Several of the other wizards had backed off, standing behind the one meant to be leading them, the one who was looming over Tav.

Gale felt Astarion poke at the inside of his head as if one of his perfectly manicured nails was nudging the tadpole that nestled there. Then, there was the vampire’s voice bouncing around the cavern of his skull.

You know languages, right, wizard? Can you make out any of this?

Gale rolls his eyes, angry at the intrusion, but thinks back: Hardly. They’re talking too fast. This is a Drow dialect that I’m not quite familiar with, although there are-

Then Shadowheart’s voice was in his head, wondering impatiently: Should we get involved or not?

Gale could barely concentrate on the voices inside his head as his insatiable curiosity gnawed at him. The rapid exchange of words in a dialect he couldn't entirely comprehend was a puzzle begging to be solved.

He strained his ears, trying to catch phrases, any hint of the topic that had ignited such fire between Tav and the Drow. Every syllable they uttered was a piece of a larger tapestry he yearned to see in its entirety.

His chest ached with curiosity. He needed to know and he almost opened his mouth to ask them to switch to Common.

But then the Drow wizard produced something from his pocket. A memory shard. A container onto which brief mental impressions are projected and stored for years at a time. Tav’s face took on a subtle, contemplative expression, her eyes narrowing slightly. The Drow wizard’s response was quick, his face reflecting a sudden realization.

His gaze darted between the two Drow, attempting to glean context from their expressions and gestures.

The weight of not knowing, of being on the periphery of an intense confrontation without the tools to decode it, settled in his chest, a mixture of frustration, fascination, and something else that burned at him.

As the conversation continued, Gale noticed Tav's stance shift subtly, her shoulders squaring off as if preparing for a confrontation. Her conversation partner, on the other hand, seemed to oscillate between defensiveness and mounting desperation. His hand tightened around the shard, his knuckles turning white, but then he would glance at Tav, and that grip would slightly ease.

Until Tav stepped closer, her voice firm and unyielding. Whatever she was saying - it was a command.