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I may no longer be a daughter of Shar, Shadowheart mused, but I still cannot seem to find a shred of kindness to hold onto. There is simply nothing within me fit to hold such a thing.
The cleric leaned back slightly and enjoyed the warmth of the fire as she ignored her own brooding, and her erstwhile companions. The sound of Lae’zel sharpening her blades was the only comfort against the endless chatter of the others. Lae’zel may not know it, but her nightly ritual was one she shared with Shadowheart – she could not relax before bed without it anymore.
“Come on,” Tav teased, “Surely there is someone you find attractive, mighty Blade of Frontiers?”
Wyll, the Blade of Frontiers in question, blushed and stammered a response. He was doing a terrible job of not looking at Gale, who was so engrossed in examining the pair of gloves he was intending to eat that he did not even notice the man’s gaze. Shadowheart rolled her eyes – how trivial.
“Well, yes,” the man stammered. “Gale is a fine example of a wizard – and even I cannot deny Karlach’s beauty, now that I can see past the lies I was fed about her.”
Gale blinked at him, shocked. “Well, you’re quite handsome yourself, Wyll. I imagine an artist would study you to explain the angles and depths of the human form, so that they might translate such thoughts to paper–”
“O- kaaayyy,” Karlach interrupted, “Enough of that, Gale. And thank you soldier, although I must say I swing for the other team.”
Wyll’s voice was a bit high when he responded. “Oh, of course, it’s just an observation.”
Karlach shot him an easy grin and then looked to where Gale was sitting, once again transfixed by his gloves. She winked, and the man flushed and looked away.
“Well,” Wyll huffed, “What of you, Tav?”
The broad shouldered elf flexed and offered a cheeky smile in return. “Oh, well that’s easy – Minthara’s just the right level of danger and hot for me. Astarion's no slouch, either.”
Minthara scoffed and rolled her eyes. She’d been deflecting compliments from Tav for about a week now. Astarion merely smirked. Karlach, however, grimaced. No love lost between the Drow and the Tiefling, mind control aside.
“Why, darling, I am hard to resist.”
“Indeed,” Tav purred. “And Shadowheart – well, you are awfully pretty, Selunite.”
Shadowheart scowled at her. “Would that I could say the same, Tav.”
Karlach slapped her thigh as she laughed. “Oh, ouch, Tav.”
The burning woman offered her a once over. “She’s not wrong though, Heart.”
Shadowheart sighed through her teeth. “I’ve told you not to call me that, Karlach.”
The woman shot her an impish grin and turned to Astarion. “Your turn, then.”
For the most part, Shadowheart tuned them out. Still, she couldn’t help but notice one important thing: not a single one of the people seated around the campfire named Lae’zel.
Minthara might have, Shadowheart thought, but she had blatantly refused to engage in the game. Perhaps Tav’s flirting was having an effect on her.
The gith showed no signs that such talk affected her at all, but Shadowheart couldn’t help the slight pang in her heart as she watched her. She didn’t hate Lae’zel anymore, not really, but their relationship was still far pricklier than it wasn’t. Still, there was something about the tight line of the woman’s shoulders as she methodically sharpened her blade that made Shadowheart think she had indeed noticed her companions' discussion. The unfinished bowl of food beside her was another point against her.
She was uncomfortable with the twisting sensation inside her as she watched the warrior. When she had still followed Shar, it would have been trivial to push that feeling down and warp it into something unrecognisable.
Now, with Selune’s guiding hand warm on her shoulder, she had no choice but to confront it.
Lae’zel was beautiful, Shadowheart realised. She was surprised she had not done so before. Dressed in her leathers, supple from a lifetime of use and comfortable for sleeping, the woman was usually so at ease in her own skin that the cleric had never even considered she could be self conscious. Even more startling was the realisation that Shadowheart had been watching her enough to be able to discern such a thing.
Perhaps the woman had held her interest for longer than even she realised.
Shadowheart traced the lines of her body with dark eyes. There was no wasted space on Lae’zel – her build screamed of raw power and astonishing speed. Reddish brown hair fell around her face, unbraided for the first time in days, and golden eyes attended her sword as intently as her hands did. Nothing got past the warrior, that was for sure. Shadowheart was sure if she twitched so much as twitched, she’d earn herself a quick, assessing glance. It was oddly comforting. She wondered how much of her peace of mind at night she owed to the woman’s tent being pitched so close to her own.
Shadowheart let her eyes trace the edge of the woman’s ears. They were surprisingly delicate, and when combined with the woman's big eyes and pert nose, made Lae’zel surprisingly expressive. She wondered what it would feel like to run her thumb over the edge of her ears, her cheekbones, her mouth…
Shadowheart blinked and willed the flush that had risen up her neck to diminish. She tilted her head to the sky and closed her eyes. As she heard Tav describe her perfect woman she could only think of Lae’zel’s withdrawn gaze.
What would it be like for her? In the astral plane, Shadowheart had no doubt that Lae’zel was considered the peak of Githyanki society. Strong, quick, sharp features, and fit. Her skin was an olive tone that seemed to glow in any light, and her eyes a shade of gold so deep it would be reminiscent of the great forges the Githyanki crafted their weaponry in. Her armour indicated she was clearly a warrior of some renown, and her sword was a flash of silver light in the heat of battle.
Yes, Lae’zel would have been a much sought after mate among her own people. Now, it was not uncommon for her to be ridiculed in most towns. HMany of the other people of this realm were not the most welcoming. Some whispered where they thought the gith could not hear, but Shadowheart had seen those ears twitch towards the unkind comments. She had the uncomfortable feeling that githyanki ears were even more sensitive than Elven ones.
“How ‘bout you, Heart?” Karlach called.
Resigned, Shadowheart slowly lowered her face from the stars and quirked one agitated eyebrow at the tiefling.
“What about me?” She asked, dry.
“Who do you think is hot, out of our little party here?” Karlach asked with an easy grin.
For a second, Shadowheart considered giving her the verbal lashing of a lifetime, declaring she found them all equally hideous, and finally finding respite in her tent. In another, she weighed up the pro’s of saying ‘Minthara’ just to fuck with them all versus the cons of the drow undoubtedly hearing her from within her own tent. It’s not that she didn’t find Minthara attractive, but rather that she did not want the woman to know that.
Before she could decide, a third option presented itself. She dared not let herself look at the gith woman who was studiously ignoring the lot of them. Still, she could see in her peripheral vision that the warrior had only grown more withdrawn since last glance.
How much would it hurt me to be honest, anyway? Besides, having one of our best fighters get depressed would be… unwise.
Shadowheart had to hold back a snort at that thought. Even if Lae’zel could get depressed, her fighting prowess would not be affected. She was too capable for that – if anything, she may become deadlier.
Choosing not to follow that particular line of thought, Shadowheart came to her decision and steeled herself.
She looked Karlach in the eye and dredged up a display of confidence she did not feel. “Lae’zel, of course. I’m afraid she’s the only one that’s caught my attention out of the lot of you.”
Silence. Utter, all encompassing silence. Astarion, the feckless creature, laughed. She did not need to see Lae’zel to feel the pain that must have caused.
“But,” Karlach stammered. “Well, I thought you – hated her?”
Shadowheart regarded the other woman coolly, but ultimately decided not to verbally eviscerate her. She alone did not seem dumbfounded by the concept that Lae’zel was attractive; moreso, she was confused that it was Shadowheart who found her as such.
Shadowheart shrugged. “Hate is a strong word.”
The cleric narrowed her eyes at the mirthful vampire. “But perhaps not strong enough, if some actions continue.”
Astarion held up a quelling hand. “Never mind me, darling. You just never fail to surprise me.”
Lae’zel still had not spoken, but Shadowheart could feel her gaze on her like a brand. The absence of the sound of a whetstone against steel grated at the Selunite’s nerves like shards of glass.
“Well,” Tav finally recovered. “What is it that makes you find her, um–”
“Beautiful?” Shadowheart snapped, voice sharp.
“Ah, yes,” the woman replied, a little uncertain.
Shadowheart grit her teeth. This was more than she wanted to share, but she could not be cruel. Not now.
“Lae’zel is as athletic as a dancer, lithe as an acrobat, fast as an adder and strong as a bear. It cannot be denied her eyes are a very unique shade of gold, and her skin reminds me of the leaves of an olive tree in the summer sun. Besides,” Shadowheart added, “The spots are quite endearing.”
Silence once again.
Wyll coughed, as if to break the silence, but Lae’zel had finally been moved to action.
“What a useless conversation,” the woman snarled.
Blade in hand, she stalked off into the nearby woods. Shadowheart frowned and cast a discerning eye over her party members.
“The lot of you should know better than anyone that being different doesn't mean you cannot be beautiful,” Shadowheart sighed.
Not bothering to look at them, she stood and made for her own tent. Shadowheart paused at the entryway and frowned in the direction Lae’zel had gone.
A warm presence behind her appeared, and Shadowheart felt her temples begin to throb.
“Yes, Karlach?” She asked, turning.
The woman’s eyes were wide, her lips downturned.
“You’re right, Heart– Shadowheart. I’m sorry, and I’ll tell Lae’zel that myself. I never meant to imply she wasn’t pretty, because she fuckin’ is, y’know? Not my usual type, but pretty nonetheless. And a damned good fighter. I was only confused – well, there’s been a lot of tension between you two and–”
Shadowheart softened. It was hard not to in the face of such earnestness.
“I know, Karlach.” She laid a hand on the woman’s arm, and felt it instantly warm against the tiefling’s skin.
“And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but ‘Heart’ is fine. Only for you, though,” she cautioned.
Karlach grinned at her. Shadowheart shook her head, feeling incredibly tired. She knew what she had to do.
“Go keep the others in line, ok?” She asked.
Karlach’s eyes lit in understanding, but she blessedly did not push. Instead, the barbarian nodded and returned to the group.
Shadowheart rolled back her shoulders and stalked into the night after Lae’zel.
She found her practising her sword forms in a shaft of moonlight so clear Shadowheart thought Selune herself had guided her to the Githyanki woman.
For a moment, the cleric only watched the other woman. It was hard not to – Lae’zel was a vision with a blade in her hand. The skin her loungewear left bare did nothing to detract from that image, either.
Lae’zel did not so much as falter as she spoke. “I know you are there, Selunite. Come to mock me further?”
Shadowheart frowned as she stepped into the light. Pushing her luck, she drew close enough that Lae’zel would either need to pause her motions or risk cutting her open.
Luckily, the gith chose the former. Shadowheart eyed a bruise on the warrior’s skin she hadn’t noticed before. With a featherlight touch, she healed it.
Lae’zel spun around and seized her wrist, glaring at her with a frightful intensity.
“Chk! Enough of your lies, Shadowheart. I do not require false words – my ego is not so easily bruised.”
The edge of the woman’s blade just barely kissed the outside of Shadowheart’s calf. The cleric smiled and let herself relax in the gith’s grasp. Oddly enough, she was not afraid.
“Who said I was lying?” She murmured, eyes intent on the woman’s face.
She did not pity Lae’zel. To do so would be a gross insult to her character.
But perhaps she understood her.
Lae’zel flinched slightly, as if Shadowheart had slapped her.
“I know what this realm thinks of my people–”
“Perhaps,” Shadowheart acknowledged. “But that needs not be the same as what I think of you.”
Lae’zel scoffed. “As if you did not despise me when we met, Selunite. The tiefling spoke true.”
Shadowheart tilted her head slightly as she looked up at the woman. Feeling more than a little bold, she swayed forward until their chests pressed together.
“I did,” she admitted, “And now I don’t. Is that so hard to believe?”
The sword pressed a little harder to her calf. It stung, but did not draw blood. Shadowheart smiled again.
Lae’zel did not pull away, and when Shadowheart turned her wrist in the woman’s hold, she did not stop the cleric from threading their fingers together.
“Come back to camp, Lae’zel. I swear to you that I do not mock you. I meant every word – I simply had to work past my own prejudice to admit it to myself.”
The woman let out a breath through clenched teeth and turned away, sheathing her blade.
“Is it so horrible?” Shadowheart asked suddenly.
“What?” The other woman growled.
Shadowheart reached for her hand and tugged her back to face her. The woman tensed but did not move against her, and Shadowheart boldly cradled her jaw in one hand.
“Is it so horrible,” she repeated. “To be beautiful? To be desired by me?”
Lae’zel shuddered. “It is a weakness.”
“What is?” Shadowheart murmured. “Beauty?”
“To–” The woman cut off suddenly, and looked away. “To want such things, especially from an istik.”
Shadowheart smiled, and it was tinged with sadness.
“I understand, but it will not stop me.” She paused before continuing. “You are more than the sum of your people’s expectations, Lae’Zel of Creche K’liir.”
Shadowheart went to step away, but the woman's scared and calloused hand shot up to grab her own, anchoring it against her cheek.
“How do you know?”
Shadowheart dragged in a breath. This suddenly felt like they were talking about much more than a simple attraction.
“Because I see you, from the blood on your teeth to the soul beneath. Warrior and protector, and a strength that is entirely your own. A false queen’s ideas of perfection are meaningless in the face of one as true as you, Lae’zel.”
For the third time that night, there was only silence between her.
“You are maddening, istik,” Lae’zel said quietly.
Shadowheart smirked. “As are you, gith.”
The cleric wasn’t entirely sure how they had reached this point. She had repressed her attraction for long enough, it seemed. Still, she meant what she had said. Travelling with Lae’zel had been surprisingly eye opening.
So when the woman leaned down to kiss her, hesitating for perhaps the first time in her life, Shadowheart merely raised onto her toes and kissed her back.
There may be nothing within her capable of holding onto kindness anymore, but as the taller woman’s lips pressed against her own, Shadowheart found herself thinking that perhaps she could find a way to grasp at it regardless.