Chapter Text
“Ugh, I need to wax my horns soon.”
It’s a quiet day for their adventuring group. Bathing, washing up, chores around camp. Lavender sits on the riverbank in the sand, hair damp as he suns himself to dry off, water droplets sparkling in the sun against lilac skin. Distantly, he can hear Shadowheart shriek as Karlach flings water at her, and the tiefling’s raucous laughter soon follows. Astarion trances lightly on a rock in the sun near them, basking like a cat, and Lae’zel and Gale are having an intense discussion about how to properly wash the camp cookpot nearby.
Wyll sits near him in the sand, but he cocks his head to the side curiously at Lavender’s words.
“You can wax horns?”
“Hm?” Lavender pauses, fingertips trailing across the tip of one horn, and furrows his brow. “Of course you can, it’s basic horn ca– oh.”
The other man looks so genuinely curious in that moment, and the tilt of his head only serves to emphasize the rather grandiose looking horns that he now sports. They’re quite beautifully formed, but now that Lavender’s consciously staring, he can tell they’re a little rough, dried out.
“...You don’t know how to take care of those, do you?” he asks gently, and the flicker of expression across Wyll’s face makes Lavender’s heart twinge. Poor thing.
“Ah, no. Mizora may have done this to me, but…” a short laugh, humorless. “She didn’t exactly stick around to teach me how to… wax them?”
Lavender hums, eying Wyll’s horns more critically now. Wax would do the warlock some good– oil, and buffing, and filing as well. It’s been a solid week since Wyll got them, and yes, he really should be taking better– or any – care of them. “Wax, yes.” Another pause, genuine hesitance as the tiefling considers what he’s about to offer. “It’d be a shame to let your horns go uncared for… Would you like me to show you how to?”
There’s earnest hope in Wyll’s eyes that betrays his eagerness– his face lights up before he reigns it in, nods almost shyly. “I would greatly appreciate that, Lavender. Please. I may be the Blade, but I’m,,, not the Horn?”
Lavender snorts, and Wyll ducks his head to hide a chuckle of his own. “That was horrible, I know.”
“It really was quite bad.” Lavender stretches, tail going rigid as he arches his back, then gets up, dusting off his breeches. “If you want me to teach you, I’ll need to get a few things together. Come find me after dinner, yes?”
“Yeah, alright,” Wyll responds lightly, but he’s radiating happiness like the sun that Lavender worships so deeply. “Thank you. Truly.”
The paladin hums, bows his head slightly, and then strides off in the direction of camp.
Wyll sits in the sand a while longer, staring out at the river, and eventually Shadowheart and Karlach wade back downriver towards camp. Shadowheart sloshes out of the river, squeezing water out of her absurdly long hair. She looks vaguely annoyed– Wyll recalls how she mentioned just wanting a dip, but now she’s soaked . Karlach must be to blame for that. The tiefling follows her with a smug grin on her face.
Shadowheart ignores the tiefling, still pretending to fume over being wet, and walks squishily over to Astarion, flicking her wet hair at him. A few droplets hit his face, and the vampire jerks out of his trance, hissing, and then falls off his rock. Shadowheart sits down in his place and peers down at him as he sputters and curses. Karlach cackles at the sight before her gaze falls on Wyll, expression lighting up at the sight of him.
Something on Wyll’s face must betray how happy he is, because Karlach beelines for him, flopping down in the sand next to him. She’s a soggy mess, and sand sticks to her skin as she rolls up into a sitting position. If it sticks there too long, she’ll soon be covered in bits of glass.
“Hey, soldier! What’s got you all smiley?”
“Am I that obvious?” he asks. His hand reaches up almost subconsciously, feeling the curve of one of his horns. “Lavender offered to show me how to care for these.”
He’s expecting a more lighthearted reaction than the one he gets– Karlach’s eyes go big and round with shock before her whole expression softens, happy and sweet.
“Awwww, he did? That’s– Wyll, that’s great!”
“Right? He mentioned waxing them, and I was curious– I mean, I have no idea what to do with these. I’m the Blade, not the Horn.”
Karlach grimaces at the joke– failed yet again– but then smiles at him, reaches out and pats his shoulder. “That’s really great, soldier– I didn’t realize you two were that close. I’m happy for you!”
Her last few sentences make his brain stutter to a stop, and he blinks fast a couple times, cocks his head to look at her.
“...You speak as if this were more important than it seems, Karlach. Is it?”
“Well, I mean, yeah . It’s your horns, Wyll.” She says it like it means something, but when Wyll’s face remains blank and confused, her eyes widen a little further. “Oooh, yeah, you wouldn’t really get that, huh?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” he agrees, but a tiny bit of worry is worming into his heart. “Have I been offered something, well, you know…?”
“No! No, nothing like that. Well. Maybe?”
“Maybe???”
Karlach sighs. “Oh boy.” She turns towards him fully, reaches upwards to drag fingers along the curve of her own horn. “I mean, kind of. Our horns are really sensitive, yeah? So touching em is sensitive too, especially when you’re maintaining them. It’s usually a thing that family members or people you’re close with do for each other. My mom and pops always helped me with mine.”
Her fingertips catch on the broken edge of her snapped horn, stuttering to a halt as she feels the sharp points. They drag over the broken edges, then along the runes carved into them. “Not– not anymore, obviously. But when I was younger, yeah.”
She gives him a second to let the words sink in. Wyll’s grateful for it, because a flush is spreading across his cheeks now. “Ah. It’s more intimate than I realized, then.”
“I mean, yeah! I don’t think Lav is coming onto you, though. He’s good about communicating like that. I guess it’s like taking care of your hair? I mean, you wouldn’t let a stranger grab your hair– and you wouldn’t let them grab your horns or tail either.”
“But I would let a friend or family member touch,” Wyll says slowly. "And it's something that partners do, as well?"
“Yeah, if they want it. Did he say he’d show you, or that he wanted to do em for you?”
“Just show, I think.”
“You’re fine, then. He won’t try to jump your bones.”
Wyll huffs out a short laugh he didn’t realize he’d been holding in, and Karlach pats him on the shoulder again.
“Knowing Lav, he’s gonna tell you all this over again before even looking at you. You’re going to get a full lecture on horns and autonomy and whatever good-guy paladin nonsense he comes up with. Lots of rules, I bet. Relax.”
She flops down again, rolls onto her belly and stretches, tail stiffening in the exact way Lav’s had when he stretched earlier. Wyll watches the motion. If simple horns carried such interesting cultural meaning, surely tails would, as well?
“Are tails similar?” Wyll asks, curiosity now fully piqued. “While we’re on the topic, I mean.”
“Yeah, sort of!” Karlach responds cheerfully. “It’s different for different parts of the tail, though. The closer you get to our asses, the more sensitive we get, and the underside of our tail is more sensitive than the top.”
She curls her tail upwards, then flicks it to the side, swatting Wyll lightly on the nose. It's like getting poked with leather left in the sun too long-- he jolts back, and Karlach laughs again.
“We can control them like an arm or a leg, pretty much. I think the fancy term is… prehensule? Prehensil? Something like that. Lav would know. The upper bit is like… just for partners , but the tip and lower half are okay for friends and family to touch. That’s another thing I miss. Once I get my engine fixed, I’m wrapping up with Lavender.”
“Wrapping up?”
“Yeah! Tieflings sometimes coil the ends of their tails together, or, if you don’t have a tail, around someone’s waist or leg or arm or whatever. Lav does it pretty often with you guys, but he doesn’t quite touch. I think he's shy. It’s like wrapping an arm around a pal, or holding hands. I just can’t do any long touches cause of my engine.”
Astarion and Shadowheart are listening in at this point, both of their ears pricked up as they very obviously eavesdrop. They appear to be sharing the rock, but Wyll can see how they’re pressed against each other, straining to shove the other off if any pressure is let up. They almost look like bickering siblings.
“What was that you said about the underside being sensitive , darling?” Astarion calls out. Shadowheart shoves him off the rock, and the vampire falls with a squawk. He glares up at the cleric as she grins smugly before turning to Karlach.
“Yes, do elaborate on that. I’m sure we’d all love to give him more reasons to make us want to cast a silence spell over his tent.”
“Curiosity is a virtue, Shadowheart.”
“So is chastity,” she snaps back, but there’s no real venom in it, and she looks curious too. Karlach laughs like a hyena again, and the smirk on her face makes Wyll think he’ll need to leave before things turn graphic.
Karlach eagerly launches into a raunchy description of just how sensitive tails can be, and the warlock hastily beats a retreat– but he doesn’t miss the way Astarion’s eyes linger on him as he moves past, heading back to camp. Practicing his fencing forms will surely help get his mind off the entire conversation.