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The camp is alive with activity.
Taking out the goblin leaders, along with their followers and other stragglers, proved to be a monumental success—one the tieflings reacted to by throwing a celebration in your honour. Its brutal efficiency set a clear warning to the other monsters lurking nearby: the journey to Baldur's Gate will resume tomorrow without interruption.
After the hellish month your party has had, it stands to reason that a little bit of fun and relaxation is well deserved. Most are standing around the fire, drinking and telling stories of Elturel while the Tiefling kids play fetch with scratch. The atmosphere is far calmer than it was at the grove.
It's not for you, though. On your way to the outskirts of the party, you’re bombarded with greetings, pats on the back, and invitations for conversation before Zevlor saves you from the unwanted attention by drawing everyone back in with tales of his Hellrider days. A quick nod is exchanged before moving on.
Peace and quiet. It's been quite some time since you've known the meaning of the phrase, but as the crowd thins and eventually becomes a distant buzz, it finds you. Nothing but the soft rustling of tree branches, along with ambient noises from tiny insects. The breeze carries the warm, salty scent of the ocean, which draws you closer.
Just north of camp, there’s a small, hidden slice of beach that's come to be your little hideaway when the stresses of the day become too much. Though, instead of being alone like you anticipated, you’re greeted with a much more welcome sight: Wyll, standing at the water's edge with his back to you and arms crossed.
He overlooks the calm, dark ocean and your eyes are drawn to it too. Its flat surface reflects the light of the full moon and thousands of stars like a mirror; one of Selûne's beautiful gifts to mortals. May she forgive you for the slight, but it’s not the most beautiful thing you’ve seen tonight.
Wyll leans over and picks up a half-full glass of wine from the stack of rocks next to him and idly sips away. He’s never been one to indulge in alcohol as much as the others, even during downtime like this. Something about needing to keep his senses sharp.. ambushes happen when you least expect them, of course. Ever the protector.
You step over a knotted tree root and onto the sand. “You never struck me as the brooding type.”
Turning at the sound of your voice, Wyll’s mouth blooms into a smile. “Really? I’ve found it suits me. Adds to my peculiar, charming nature."
“You’re definitely peculiar, don’t know about charming.”
“You wound me.”
In response, you hold up a hand. A faint, golden light spills from your fingertips like a waterfall. "Good thing you know a cleric."
That earns a chuckle out of him. It's a sound you've come to love, a melody that not even the best bard in the realm could replicate. Out of all your companions, Wyll is always looking for the positives and seeking to make others smile no matter the circumstances. His presence at your side has become a comforting one. One whose absence is deeply missed.
He gives you a sideways look as you approach. “Finally got tired of all the commotion?”
“Something like that. If one more person asks to shake my hand, I may rip it off. I just needed to get away and clear my head.”
“Ah, great minds think alike.”
“I suppose me being here defeats the purpose of your self imposed isolation.”
“It does.” He says, setting the wine glass down. “But don’t worry, you’re not intruding on my brooding.”
You sigh. “Oh, what a relief.”
“In truth, I was just thinking about you.”
“Should I be worried or flattered?”
“No cause for concern. The latter is up to you, I suppose.”
You come to a stop at his side and cross your arms. "Well, I'll have to hear all the details before coming to any conclusions."
Out on the water, a vaguely humanoid creature breaks the surface, followed by another as they swim further along the coast. Druid or Sahuagin, it’s too dark to tell, but they’re gone before the curiosity takes hold. Oh, to have freedom like that.
"I had wondered if you'd partake in this evenings.. other forms of amusement." He begins, shifting his stance. "I saw Lae’zel and some human paladin head to the ruins to the south.”
You shudder. That paladin must have had no idea what he's in for, or possesses nerves of steel. "The opportunity has presented itself, but I have no interest in being Astarion’s blood bag."
"Far less dangerous lovers to take to bed. Gale has made his interest in you.. quite public knowledge."
"Look at you, being a matchmaker."
"My only intention is to see you happy." He says, then quickly clears his throat. "All of you."
"You're sweet.. but I'm not worrying about my happiness until this parasite is removed."
"It's good to think of the future; having something to fight for, a light at the end of this dark tunnel, but.. given our circumstances, it might be best to live in the moment.”
What comes after isn't something you've put much thought into. Your only focus has been ridding yourself of the damn parasite and even that's proving to be a monumental task; one that’s evolved into possibly delving into the underdark to find some sort of relic and who knows what else beyond that.
Several members of your party would split ways the second a cure was found, you knew that much. Lae'zel, Shadowheart and perhaps even Astarion since his presence among your group seemed mostly reluctant and a means to an end. Though you've come to like them, you can't blame them.
If Karlach managed to fix her infernal engine and permanently evade her former bosses, there's a good chance she'd stay in contact. You, her, and Wyll are practically best friends at this point, despite their rocky start. Their companionship is one of the only good things to come out of this tadpole situation. Would you have ever found each other otherwise?
"Okay, then humour me.” You say, pushing that grim thought away. “If we find a way to get the tadpoles removed, what would you do?"
There's no hesitation on his part. "Continue doing what I've always done, I suppose. Fighting the good fight, ridding the Sword Coast of all its corruption. And well, If time allows it, I may make amends with my father.”
“Not a happy tale, I take it?”
“The story is too long and too sombre to be recounted on a night of festivities; best save it for another day.”
You nod. "What about long term, then? When does the blade of frontiers plan on settling down?"
He chuckles. "When? That's a good question. When children can play in the woods without fear of being taken by fae; run through the streets without worry of a goblin attack.” A pause. “When I don't have to worry about them coming home with an unwanted passenger in the brain."
Pointing out the obvious that such things wouldn't happen in his lifetime would bring about the aforementioned sombre mood, so you leave it be.
“Your ambitions are inspiring.” Is what you say instead. "I've seen you with children. You're kind and patient—is it safe to assume that fatherhood calls you?”
"One day, yes. I want children, but most of all, I want a family. A partner to grow old with," he muses, scratching the back of his neck. "Someone I can give my whole heart to, and receive theirs in turn. Someone who doesn't look at me with pity."
Your brows pull together at how his words seemed to fade off, as if he's embarrassed. "Is that why you're really out here? Because you think people are treating you differently?"
A tremor of.. unease, flickers through the bond.
“They look at me and see a devil, now.” Wyll says, “I have become what I swore to defend them against—they must think me mad for bargaining with a demon..”
“What they see hasn’t changed. You’re their protector, their blade, titles, titles, and all that.” A smile cracks his lips. “What you look like doesn’t matter as you continue fighting against real evil.”
A pang of sadness resonates through you, and it's unclear which of you it belongs to. Still, you reach out and touch his arm. "You’re a good man, Wyll. Perhaps the best of us. Anyone would be lucky to have you."
Silence takes hold as Wyll stares out across the calm ocean again. You often wondered what it’d be like to pack a bag, hop on a ship and cross the sea to another continent. How easy it would be to leave this life behind; succumb to the parasite alone, in a strange, unfamiliar place.
“What do you see?” Wyll’s voice pulls you from those thoughts, and at first, you think he’s talking about the water. Instead, he’s staring at you. “When you look at me?”
So many answers to such a simple question appear in your mind all at once, and it’s an effort to rein them back in before they’re unwillingly projected through the bond. No, you had nothing negative to say about Wyll—far from it.
In truth, you’re one of the only ones who hasn’t acted differently since his transformation. The horns took a little getting used to, but they’re no different from those a tiefling has; his singular brown eye was replaced with a deep red pupil, white replaced with black, yet nothing else has changed, say for the minor alterations on his skin.
But he’s still Wyll. So, you settle on: “A handsome devil.”
He laughs. “I should’ve seen that one coming.”
“I should hope so. You can see in the dark now.”
His smile makes your heart flutter, but deep down, you know that kind of compliment isn’t what he’s looking for. You fully turn to face Wyll and he does the same, no doubt sensing your sudden shift in demeanour. Truthfully, you have no idea how to explain it, so you decide to utilize the tadpole for one of its few benefits.
It’s like extending a limb, and you’re unsettled by how easy it’s become to use. Manipulating others comes as easy as breathing, if you’re so inclined. The mental link connecting True Souls is a low, continuous tremor—something resembling a gentle caress, so you reach out and ‘touch’ his mind.
He lets you in. What you send through the bond isn't a memory, or words or even a clear picture, it’s just a feeling. The feeling he gives you. A gentle warmth spills from your mind into his, and both of you shiver as the message you intend to convey starts to take shape.
You don’t see the fabled blade of frontiers because you had no idea who he was prior to meeting him, nor do you see a demon hell-spawn. No, you see Wyll, who’d been your travelling companion for a month now, who had nothing in his heart but kindness and the desire to do good.
Not for notoriety or monetary gain; the sword coast is his home, so it’s only natural he’d want to keep it—and its people—safe. Wyll didn’t seek titles and glory. He’s humble and doesn’t expect to be treated in the way someone of his status should be.
Because you’re opening up your soul to him, it all comes out. Even the things you’d normally keep hidden. The shy, flustered smiles, how your heart skips when he touches you, how his smooth, deep voice puts your stomach in knots. The ache in your chest when he's not around, the panic when he's injured.
Intermixed with it all, you receive his mind. How easily one of your gentle smiles could bring him to his knees, how your cleric-touch soothes him in more ways than physically, how he yearns to hold you throughout the night, how every moment you’re out of his sight is a moment too long.
His fierce devotion to keep you safe, to be your protector even if you don't need it. He allows himself to be selfish at times, putting your needs and wants above all else. Wyll wants to exceed your expectations—he wants to be enough for you, and fears he never will.
Through the soft and gentle thoughts, you see flashes of how he wants to kiss you; softly, fervently, deeply.. that desire burns hotter than the hells within him. To wake up next to you after a night of passion and keep you in bed for the rest of the morning with alluring promises and skilled hands.
Breath hitching, you’re brought back into reality as the bond abruptly cuts off. The intensity of it always catches you off guard. It’s so real, like you’re actually there experiencing their memories, actually there in the moment of those fantasies. You realize he’s been staring at you with smouldering intensity. Perhaps just a trick of the mind, but his red eye seemed to blaze with the same passion fuelling those unholy thoughts. Your own face sears with a warmth that pales in comparison to that which radiates off Karlach.
The Gods take pity on you in the form of Wyll choosing not to tease you about it. He glances away first and clears his throat. “..to know the one person I care about most truly sees me as the man I yearn to be.”
It makes your heart swell, filling you with the courage to reach out and brush your fingertips against his scruffy jaw, and gently turn his face back towards you. You fingers trail over old and new scars alike and he stills as the bond sings with alacrity.
"You're not a monster, Wyll. Not to anyone." You step closer to fully cup his cheek, and his good eye sparkles in the moonlight as your thumb brushes over the rigid cheekbone. Despite his sad smile, it's devastatingly obvious how tired he is. "Not to me."
In response, Wyll reaches up and slides a hand over yours, his own thumb caressing gentle circles into your skin. The warmth seeping from his palm may be a side effect of his hellish transformation—he rarely touched you enough before to notice and definitely never like this.
"That's all that matters to me." He murmurs, turning his head slightly to press those lips against your palm.
You don't dare speak or move in fear of your body betraying you more than it already has. He curls your hand into a fist, cups it in both of his, and leans in to kiss your knuckles. His tender gaze matches the delicate manner in which he holds you. The moment feels like an eternity. If only it could last that long.
“When we get to Baldur’s gate, there’s a hill outside the lower city that brings you so close to the stars you can almost reach out and touch them.” He says, “There’s a park nearby which hosts an orchestra every ten-day; to dance under the stars on a summers night with you would sate me for a lifetime."
“I can’t dance.” You admit, heart thundering in your chest now. “I suppose you’ll have to teach me.”
The smile has never left his face, but it seems to only brighten. “It would be my honour, as out of practice as I may be."
I can’t wait. Is what you mean to say out loud, but the words transfer through the mental connection instead. Speech has failed you with your mind this flustered; both your heart and head want nothing more than to just stand here and stare at him in all his beauty.
It’s a sentiment that’s echoed through the bond, because Wyll leans in and kisses your knuckles again. “There will be time for us. I swear it.”
His earlier words resonate with you now more than ever. This is what you had to look forward to, this is what you're going to fight for. Wyll, your light at the end of the tunnel. Perhaps it's too early to think of a future with this man, but right now, it's exactly what you need to keep going. Exactly what you want.
“Stay with me a while?” He asks, “I'd be nothing short of a villain to send you back to the very same crowds you're so keen to avoid."
All you can offer is a nod, so he lowers your combined hands and steps aside. Wyll gestures towards the blanket near the rocks with one hand while intertwining the other with yours, and you’re glad for the contact. His touch could drive you mad, but it’s soothing all the same.
And there you sit for the rest of the night, shoulder to shoulder, hands intertwined in comfortable silence. Sleep will find you soon enough, but you’ll rest easy knowing you’ve never been more safe and content.