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Halsin dresses in his soft clothes, still a little flustered when Astarion picks him up and carries him to the couch he wished to be sat at.
“It has been… I must have been about nine or ten years old the last time I was carried as an elf. I… did not realize how much I missed it.” The huge elf is bright pink with embarrassment and appreciation. He smiles and kisses the vampire’s forehead; settling on the couch and asking for a tome from his bags. Astarion brings over the druid’s possessions and sits beside him until he hears Solace’s telltale mutterings and the creak of a bedframe. He glances up to see the paladin swing their legs over the side of the bed just as Wyll hurries over to offer his help.
The one eyed former warlock offers his hand to the one armed paladin, warning them that he will call for Jaheira if they need help, and the half elf is still in a deep drunken slumber. The threat of a hungover and protective Jaheira is not lost on them, but they are determined to impress on Wyll that they are fine.
“I have been mended by Shadowheart already, Wyll. I’m fine. Where’s Halsin?”
“We’re down here, darling.” Astarion calls, standing up from his seat and coming to stand on Solace’s right side. He instinctively goes to hold a hand that is no longer present. A single moment of grief flashes through him. It is ultimately a small thing. A very small loss in comparison to nearly losing them entirely. But he wants to hold their hand, and now he can’t unless he is on their left.
Solace presses their entire body into him as they stand; left hand clinging to Wyll as they stand on legs that tremble like a newborn colt. They had nearly died yet again. They were vulnerable in a familiar and deeply frustrating way. He is getting tired of constantly worrying about them.
Hopefully, this will be the last near death experience for a long time. They have had enough of them for several lifetimes.
Solace walks while leaned against him and clinging to Wyll’s hand. Astarion has his arm around their waist; feeling every hesitation as the godling prepares to take a step. Their body is bruised and beaten despite the intervention of the cleric and Jaheira. It seemed that the volatile boon from Selune had burnt a great deal of their natural resilience. He can smell the lingering divine power in the tiefling; a sharp, offensive, almost violent scent of burnt sugar. Whatever had been tied up in the ring Isobel had given to them had lashed out at being unbound by the power of the Elder Brain and seemed to have burned itself into Solace. Or so he guessed. Whatever had happened, Solace was once again dealing with the ramifications of a god demanding something from them.
Wyll and Astarion guide the determined paladin down the few steps to the lounge area Halsin was sitting in. The paladin, taking their eyes off the ground as they carefully placed their feet, beams at the druid for a moment before their expression falls. Their eyes grow wide and their lips tremble.
“I…. Halsin…” The paladin chokes, shocked at the druid’s lack of legs. Astarion curses himself. He hadn’t warned them.
Halsin chuckles and pats the seat beside him, smiling brightly at the damp eyed tiefling. Solace walks unsteadily to sit beside their druid, left hand nervously reaching for his. The huge elf raises their fingers to his lips and kisses them gently.
“I know it is quite a shock to witness for the first time. I promise I’m alright.” He silently asks if Solace wants to touch his stumps, and the druid places their hand on his skin; letting them see that he is not in pain or ashamed of his limbs.
“Sorry,” Solace apologizes, smiling gently at the druid; their eyes drying as they experience the druid’s acceptance. The druid tilts his head in confusion but does not interrupt.
“For reacting like that. Probably not the reaction you were hoping for.” The paladin’s voice is soft, genuine and embarrassed.
“It’s alright, my heart. A reaction of fearful shock is completely understandable. I imagine that if I had not been told of your state, I would be quite unprepared for it. You are forgiven, as you did no wrong.” Solace leans forward and kisses Halsin; resting their forehead to his.
“You’re so sweet. I love you.” The tiefling breathes, voice wrought to the bone. The very short walk was evidently quite taxing. He can hear it in their lungs struggling to bring in full breaths.
Solace asks the men around them to fill them in on what has happened since they were resting. Wyll is happy to report that the city is already being rebuilt. He had gone to see his father while most everyone had slept or designed prosthetics. The guilds had been contacted and artisans had been contracted. The city is being cared for. As for the people, food and supplies have been given out and healers are tending to the wounded.
Solace listens to all of this information with the attention of a student who knows a test is coming and pulled an all nighter. The kind of manic focus that only happens when sleep has been long denied. The paladin listened but Astarion can tell their body desperately wants to rest more.
“That is wonderful news, Wyll. I hope Ulder is being civil. I’d go help out, but I am… fucking exhausted.” Solace blinks, clearly trying to remain awake. Astarion smirks and stops running his fingers through their hair. The automatic soft, displeased growl that escapes them is adorable.
“Let me carry you to bed then, darling.” Astarion suggests, already crouching to support their knees. Solace gives him a confused, almost alarmed look. He can’t help but grin at their expression. They have no idea how strong he is now that the tadpole and Cazador are gone. He’s going to enjoy this.
“That’s really sweet but I don’t think-” The tiefling cuts themself off when they are easily lifted into his arms and cradled against his chest. Solace is wide eyed and stiff as a board in his arms. Their tail wrapped around his arm on pure instinct. Their left hand, the only one they have, flies to grab at his lapels; afraid of falling. The vampire gives no sign of struggle; Solace is easier to hold that Halsin even if they are six feet tall. They're surprisingly easy to hold on to.
“You were saying?” He quips, easily ferrying them to their bed once more. Their eyes are narrowed in playful suspicion as he presses them into laying down with a kiss on their lips.
“Cheeky vampire. Bring me my druid then. I wish to be surrounded by the men I love.”
Solace is once again asleep in their bed; curled against Halsin’s side, left arm wrapped around the druid’s middle. Solace’s breathing is deep and untroubled; the paladin utterly unbothered by anything. Halsin has been gently pressing healing magic into the paladin’s form, a tree trunk arm curled around to rest on their back. Astarion is sitting at the paladin’s feet, holding the tiefling’s tail blade in his hand as he reads his alchemy tome. It’s quiet and calm. Even the sounds from the tavern below are muffled and pleasant, even as it is nearing sundown. Gale and Wyll have gone to aid Rolan in his aims to rebuild housing. Karlach is still out and presumably with Dammon or Frytz, while Minsc and Jaheira have gone to Rivington to help and contend with Jaheira's children. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are likely still… Preoccupied.
The tavern room is empty except for the three of them. It's quite nice. Halsin has been drifting in an out of meditation for a while; usually rousing himself long enough to press more healing magic into the still deeply bruised paladin.
Halsin startles for a moment, a smile flitting over his lips.
“Wonderful news. We are still at the Elfsong. You may come by immediately if you wish to do so. Some people are resting.” The druid meets his curious gaze and waggles his right leg; indicating that Thistlespring had contacted him.
“Kiana will be by in a few moments. She wished to confirm if I was awake. She should be-” A knock on the inn door and then a gnome head poking through the entrance required no more explanation.
The light brown skinned gnome woman greets them with a soft, respectful tone that does not wake Solace. What does wake the tiefling is the druid trying to extricate himself from an exceedingly physical paladin. Solace grumbles and tries to burrow further into Halsin’s embrace; not quite awake yet but refusing to be abandoned in their slumber.
Halsin has an expression somewhere between bliss and agony as he realizes his heart’s desire does not want to be apart from him but that he needs to do so and might have to wake them. Astarion chuckles and pats Solace’s tail blade to rouse them further; getting a grumpy grunt in response.
“No.” The paladin asserts; pressing their face into Halsin’s ribs.
“You don’t have to get up, love, just let the druid test out his new limbs. Let him get up.”
“Don’t wanna.” Petulant and half asleep, the tiefling attempts to wrap their legs around Halsin’s, grumbling in confusion when they cannot find a full limb to cling to. Halsin looks ready to weep joyful tears, and he runs his fingers through Solace’s hair. The paladin sighs and begrudgingly squints open their eyes.
“What’s is… what happen?” The paladin slurs, attempting to sit up and struggling to do so. Their body moves in a way that suggests they are trying to use the right arm they no longer have to help them sit up. For a moment, the paladin wavers unsteadily; their left arm pushing on Halsin’s sternum to give them something they can use to steady themselves. It looks awkward and the paladin is clearly frustrated even before Halsin lets out a grunt of discomfort at the full weight of the paladin’s torso being leveraged on his ribs.
“Sorry.” The paladin grunts, removing their left arm from the druid and collapsing heavily on the bed. It is… disquieting. Solace is not really able to sit up by themself. Astarion does not like it. He doesn’t like it in the least. His chest aches in something close to fury. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that they can’t even sit under their own power.
“Is now not a good time? I can go downstairs and get a drink if you need a few moments.” Kiana Thistlespring asks, standing at the base of the two step rise that separated one bed area from the rest of the room. She has a crate with her and looks exhilarated but determined to be unobtrusive. The vampire appreciates her decorum.
“It’s fine. I’m just… new to this. Go on Halsin, I want to see these new legs and feet of yours.” Solace huffs, rolling onto their back and playfully whacking the druid with their tail. Halsin smiles and swing his legs over the side of the bed, single left knee bent and merrily kicking his half-calf as he welcomes Kiana over.
Thistlespring carries over the crate and pulls out the limbs she had made; happily explaining that any adjustments can be made immediately due to her magic and the tools she brought with her.
“First things first. Let’s see if the sockets are properly sized. I should have accounted properly for the metal shrink, but it’s always the first thing to check.”
Kiana first hands Halsin his left foot; the shining silver metal an intricate and beautiful woven piece of what Astarion would not hesitate to call art. He had been expecting a simple grey scaffold of metal that Halsin would have to cover with druid craft to have his leg look even vaguely natural. Kiana has sculpted the shape of a calf and ankle and foot; the metal visually flowing in soft curves similar to vines growing on a wall. The center of the limb is hollow; the support for Halsin’s weight built into the design itself.
Solace struggles to sit up and witness the legs Halsin is gifted, wriggling undignified and frustrated until they reach for his hand. He had not wanted to offer help until they wanted it. He takes their warm hand in his and gently pulls them into a sitting position, wondering how they had managed to sit up without help last time if they needed aid now. Regardless, Astarion helps his partner sit beside Halsin, the paladin voicing their appreciation for how pretty the prosthetics were.
“Thank you! I think it’s the single good thing to come out of building the Steel Watch for Gortash. Man had an eye for aesthetics. He wanted the damned things to look regal and was very particular about it. Anyway, Does your calf feel alright in the socket? I brought padding in case you didn’t have what you needed for what druid things you were going to try.” Kiana offers the druid a choice of wool and cotton fabric; the druid accepting the cotton gratefully.
“I admit I had been thinking of vinework for the padding, but without a fabric barrier, the discomfort would be immense. Thank you for remembering what an old druid did not.” Halsin slips the cotton fabric over his calf stump and slides it into the metal socket, humming slightly at the sensation.
“It… feels like a very strange shoe.” The man chuckles, hands glowing with a simple magic as a series of vines twine around the metal limb and the flesh beneath. Astarion can only assume Halsin is ensuring a snug fit for the limb to remain on his calf.
“Do you want to try one at a time or both at once?” Kiana asks, clearly excited by either prospect. Halsin elects to try both at once.
“So long as I have someone to stabilize me, I believe I can manage both. Let us try.”
Kiana unfolds the druid’s new right leg; about twice the size as the left. Halsin sits further forward, huffing in a pleased way when he uses his left foot to do so.
“The little things you don’t realize you do every day…” He murmurs to himself, sliding his healed and cotton wrapped thigh into the socket. The druid creates the same vinework on his thigh as he did with his calf, and Astarion stands without being asked to; offering his hands to Halsin as he prepares to test out his new limbs.
“Take it slow, Halsin.” Kiana advises, standing about as tall as Halsin’s mid thigh. She steps away as Solace stands as well, the artificer’s eyes widening as she finally notices Solace is armless. The paladin stands steady as they prepare to help Halsin as well.
The druid exhales slowly and focuses on making himself stand.
It is almost funny when Halsin’s new knees have him tilting uncontrollably backwards. The druid curses and throws his hands back towards the bed, trying to soften his fall. He lands ungraciously on the mattress and takes a moment to cover his face with both his hands; fingers digging into his forehead.
A long moment passes where Halsin takes a deep breath and refuses to exhale. He is shaking. Trembling. A tidal wave of emotion held at bay by crumbling willpower.
Solace is the next to speak, sitting with one leg on the ground and one knee bent beside the druid. They wear an expression of soft understanding.
“You are allowed to be upset, Halsin.” Is all the tiefling coos before the druid starts audibly crying. Deep, genuine sobs that Astarion wasn't expecting to hear, but perhaps should have. Halsin had been putting on a brave face because his partners would be worried. Now that his partners had seen him literally fall down on the job, the man was unable to keep up the act.
Astarion silently asks with a tilt of his head for Kiana to give them space. The gnome woman nods and walks to the sunken lounge area, immediately pulling out paper and working on something. The vampire then joins his partners on the bed, hoping his presence is a benefit.
Halsin breathes deeply and lets himself cry; frustration flowing off of him as he does.
“I should know better than to be upset about this.” The druid mutters, palms pressed over his eyes; tears spilling past and down to his ears.
“I know these things take time. I have aided people in this position before. I have experience in this. And yet I blubber as a student would.” Bitter words torment the man; twisting something awful and wonderful in Astarion’s chest. The satisfaction he feels at Halsin proving to be just as flawed as anyone in the party is… honestly very nice. Halsin tries too hard to be a paragon of self assurance and peace. He needed to let himself feel his own damn feelings instead of putting others ahead of him.
“I should not be upset. I know how recovery works. It is different and painful for everyone. I should not be upset and yet…” Halsin slams his fists on the mattress; glaring up at the ceiling with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. The druid breathes for a long moment, willing himself to calm. Solace offers their hand to him and the druid clings to them like a dying man.
“You’re a person, Halsin. I think you forget that sometimes. You don’t have to be a healer in all things. You can just be an elf that needs to have frustration about having had a huge change happen what, a day ago? Not even a full sun cycle? Would you chastise me for being angry about losing my arm and thus my ability to write and swing a sword?”
The druid doesn’t immediately respond, still glaring at the ceiling like it had personally offended him. His hazel eyes slide to look at Solace; their mismatched eyes gentle and caring. Halsin takes a moment to gaze at them and deflates with a breath. His lips press into a thin line.
“I would not chastise you or anyone for being frustrated. You are right… It’s just… What a person can say can often be lost on themself. Unintentional hypocrisy is no less frustrating.”
“It’s not hypocritical to want to get back on your own feet quickly, Halsin.” Astarion supplies, hoping he’s helping. Solace’s pleased half smile is a calming thing to witness.
“Let me guess what you want most, dear druid,” He begins, trying to lighten the mood with a soft, playful patter to his voice. Solace’s smile grows slightly incredulous but is not displeased or confused. He takes that as a good sign.
“You want most of all to get back on your feet so you can start helping others as fast as possible. Is that it?” Astarion smiles down at the druid, the elf blushing in a way that says Astarion called him out on his thoughts.
“Halsin, you were very particular with what Solace was allowed to do when they were recovering. Do you imagine that you deserve any less care? Do you imagine that Solace or I or gods forbid Jaheira will let you push yourself past what you are physically well enough to do? Darling druid, did you think that we haven’t been paying attention?”
Halsin doesn’t try to hide the tears he sheds now; smiling miserably as his partners lovingly chastise him. He smiles fully after a few minutes, both his hands held by his partners. The druid takes a deep breath and sits himself up, looking at his legs with a new determination in his eyes.
“I would like to try again. With Astarion at my side, please. Solace, I understand you want to help, but I would feel far worse if I fell on you. Please let Astarion be my support.” Solace huffs playfully but remains where they are; clearly attempting to cross their one arm to display their playful displeasure. Halsin snorts and squeezes their knee.
The druid stands up on his new legs with the help of Astarion holding tight to the druid’s waist. Solace has the brilliant idea of grabbing a staff and having Halsin use it to steady himself.
“That really should have been the obvious first step. Thank you.” Halsin accepts somewhat backhandedly, using the staff in his right hand as he starts to take careful, unsteady steps.
Halsin is unsteady, but he manages to find his balance as he goes. It’s not perfect; it's not even good, but it is progress. The druid insists on trying to walk on his own for two steps; learning how the joints he does not control react to the angle of the ground and how much force he places his foot down with. The staff saves him several times. It is especially useful for helping the elf stand and sit; the actions Halsin seemed to be struggling with the most. He is exhausted but satisfied when he stands and sits five times without overbalancing.
The prosthetics are flawless and comfortable. Halsin has no complaints about them and praises Kiana’s work; thanking her profusely. The gnome is very happy her work was what he needed, and she asks Solace if they were in need of an arm as well.
“Arms are a lot more complicated to make. Especially if you want to have arcane enchantments and runes applied to make it function as your lost limb did. I’ve made a few replacements that can write and swing a sword exactly as the old limb did. Those are… very expensive and time consuming to make. And the forge I used for Halsin’s limbs is pretty bare bones. I’d need to have Dammon’s help if you need a completely functional limb. But if you want a fairly basic limb; one that can bend and support your weight but won’t be able to do the more dexterous actions like writing or braiding or things like that; I can make one by tomorrow evening? If you want a more complex one, I’d need a month or more for research and supplies and detailed rune work. And I simply could not do that for free, I’m sorry. To get it done in that time frame, I’d need to work on it every day or hire other enchanters to inlay the magic when I’m doing other work.” She looks abashed and regretful as she talks, her hands wringing in front of her.
“I’m willing and happy to get you an arm so you can get kinda back to normal, but anything else will have to be really well planned and researched, and that isn’t cheap to do. Sorry.”
Solace point blank refuses to let the woman work on their arm for free; stumbling unsteadily over to their bag and pulling out a money pouch and handing the woman three hundred gold. Kiana’s eyes go wide, as do Astarion’s. The gnome hadn’t even stated a price for a complex limb yet. Now she knew Solace had fairly deep pockets and was willing to overpay for an offered free limb.
“Thank you, Kiana. I’d love to have a new arm as soon as you’re able. It doesn’t have to be fancy. But if I can request one thing: can you make it with a few hidden compartments? If I’m down a limb, I think I’ll need a few surprises up my literal sleeve.”
Kiana Thistlespring looks like her day had just been made; possibly even her month. She takes Solace’s gold and bows in respect, saying that she would be doing her best work as fast as possible. She turns and teleports away, waving happily as she does.
Astarion doesn’t mention the naive nature of paying for a free item, knowing that Solace would not appreciate it and furthermore; not listen. He instead suggests that once the sun goes down, the three of them should all go for a short walk. And invite any of the rest of the party to come as well.
“I want to see how the city has fared while we were all resting. I think we should go see what the night holds. And I am starving, so that is also a motivation for myself.” His partners chuckle and agree to go for a walk; Halsin told in no uncertain terms that he would be required to have a staff and lean on Astarion as much as needed. The druid holds up his hands and admits defeat.
“Far be it from me to ignore those that care for my well being. I will accept that I will be hobbling with aid.”
“I will be hobbling along with you, dear. We can dodder along like a couple in their silver years.” Solace coos, amused and tired. Halsin beams at them; scooting towards them and pulling them into a warm embrace that aches of a man who desperately needed to have his limitations accepted. Astarion invites himself to the embrace and the three of them sit against each other until the sun falls and Wyll returns with Gale; a few items in their arms.
“I made a stop by Stelmane’s old estate with my father. She had a collection of canes that I feel would be very helpful for the two of you. Here. Given with the blessing of the Ducal Council that we certainly did ask first.” Wyll enthuses and lies, offering a selection of impressive canes to the paladin and druid. Astarion raises an eyebrow at Wyll’s phrasing; the man smiling without any shame at all. He did not in fact, ask for the canes and did not care at all. Astarion feels pride swell in his chest. The man had come such a long way.
“All of these have arcane enhancements. This one,” Gale gestures a sturdy, umber stained crook handled cane inlaid with shimmering gold filigree. The entire cane crackles with energy, and Gale’s smile is gleeful.
“Has eight arcane charges for casting either a fireball spell or shield spell. Shield is a very basic spell, so you can use it in conjunction with the fireball. Ideal if you do not already have the ability to cast either spell. Only drawback is that by their nature, arcane charges are not as versatile as a caster’s own innate abilities. I, for example, would not use the charges to cast the shield spell. Think of an arcane charge as roughly twice as effective as what you can do on your own. Arcane charges are powerful, but not versatile. I won’t bore you with the details, but think of them as highly specific tools. Each item that has an amount of charges must have those charges applied for a specific purpose. You would not use a chisel to break down a wall or a sledge hammer to engrave a tombstone.” The wizard then picks up the next cane: a thick black oak cane with a silver knob handle that seems fairly mundane. Astarion has rarely seen the man look so excited to explain what an item can do.
“This one is possibly my favorite. Only six charges are available, but, and this is why it is my favorite; you can cast Teleport with only four charges, and I’ll remind you that Teleport can bring up to nine willing creatures to a place you know of, and, you can use a single charge to cast Sending. This cane was clearly designed for a busy leader, and if neither of you want it, I want it.” Gale’s face is shining like the sun as he describes the magic available to his friends; and his eyes gleam in something like jealousy. Or maybe the orb is making him hungry again.
“These last two are the same enchantments.” Wyll holds out two very pretty canes; one T handled cane made of stained glass sunflowers soldered with currently oxidized copper, and softly glowing from within; and the other an L-shaped brown leather wrapped item that wouldn’t look out of place anywhere.
“Seven charges each with access to Detect Thoughts, Disguise Self, See Invisibility, and the Message cantrip. Two canes made with subterfuge in mind, I imagine. Do either of you have an immediate favorite?”
Solace has not taken their eyes off the heavy black oak cane. They hold out their only hand for the item and Gale performatively pouts about his favorite item being claimed. Solace hugs the cane to their chest like a possessive child holds a favored stuffed animal. Gale will not be getting it back, and everyone knew that the moment Solace’s eyes lit up at the concept of being able to Send. Halsin requests the stained glass sunflower cane and Astarion can immediately tell that the druid will not take another. It suits him.
“I was lamenting not having the ability to contact my friends from a distance without the tadpoles. This is incredible. Does Stelmane’s family not mind?”
Wyll shakes his head sadly and sets the two canes he had been holding against the bedframe where Halsin can reach them. The former warlock sighs and sits cross legged on the ground, smiling somewhat sadly.
“Stelmane has no living family, and her Ducal Title is soon to be voted on. Her estate was mostly unharmed in the battle and the more personal and expensive items have been gathered for distribution and sale before the building is turned to a refuge.” Wyll smiles at the use of a presumably huge house being used for those who have lost everything. The man sighs and continues speaking; changing subjects to who might replace Stelmane.
“Father and I had put forth Barcus Wroot as an option, but he outright refused and suggested Obelia Toobin in his place. I think she’s a good choice for a right hand, but a little young for a Ducal position. As long as the Portyr’s don’t have another seat, we should avoid a majority council stonewall. Dillard Portyr has already voted to deny his son Sorin a seat. The patriars are scrambling to bring their nominees. I think someone put you forward, Solace.”
The paladin blinks at the grinning man, not certain how they should reply. Their expression is a twisted one that defies interpretation.
“Father was quite clear that he would not let that happen. He hasn’t mentioned your…” Wyll clears his throat, a flicker of worry over his expression.
“Part in the plot or your parentage. I trust that he won’t be so cruel as to endanger you. He has bigger issues at the moment.”
Astarion has to disagree with that. Ulder Ravengard is a petty man with a wounded ego and power to have Solace wiped from the face of the realm. Wyll does not miss the unhappy expression he wears.
“I’m not going to let him hurt them, Astarion. Trust me if you can't trust my father.” Wyll does his best to convince him that he can be trusted in this moment. The vampire feels himself frown.
“I trust you, Wyll. You’ve seen what and who Solace is. You are not, however, able to make your father do anything. He knows what Solace is and what they did under Bhaal’s influence. You also, were not around to witness Solace defend you to your father and how he refused to concede he was wrong until your memories were forced into his head. I want to trust that you can reason with him, but I have seen no sign that he will listen to anyone but himself.”
Wyll grimaces but nods, accepting that his father may be a bigger problem than he can handle alone.
“Perhaps I can reason with him in time. Or…” The duke’s son frowns even further, a dark idea crossing his mind as he looks up at the wizard. Gale looks concerned but attentive.
“We could… change his mind for him?” Wyll looks sick at the thought, but Astarion can’t help but think that that would be perfect. Gale looks uncomfortable but nods his head in thought.
“I… could try. It would be easier if he agreed, but I doubt he would. And the memories would have to be carefully edited so he doesn’t break the enchantment trying to understand what was changed. Memory magic is… complex and relatively easy to negate. Not to mention on the morally gray side of things.” The wizard explains, entirely practical and informative.
“I won’t ask you to do that to your father, Wyll.” Solace interjects, expression stern. They will not allow a moral trespass on their behalf.
“I may not like your father, but I know you love him. I think the simplest way to ensure he won’t set people on me is to get him to swear an oath or pact of some kind. Probably not to me, but we might be able to get Isobel or Aylin to officiate. I think even Ulder would have to accept Selune’s daughter as a character witness. Assuming I’m using that term correctly.”
Astarion smiles, nodding that they are indeed using the phrase correctly.
“I’ll ask them if they’d be willing. And if my father will not… I will not let him endanger you, Solace. I’m not asking your permission for that.”
The group falls to contemplative quiet at the man’s words, Solace visibly uncomfortable at being someone who is protected at a cost instead of the one to protect another. Astarion squeezes their hand in support and turns to the wizard and former warlock once again.
“I was hoping we could all take a walk now that the sun is down. I am but one person and would appreciate help with these two.” He doesn’t fight the grin that breaks over his face at the petulant gentle swats he receives from his partners.
“I’d love to.” The two men agree simultaneously.