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The shadow curse is quiet outside Karlach’s tent. Nearby, Lae’zel snores, but it’s comforting in the same way the sound of rain is, a steady reminder to Karlach that she’s really not in Avernus anymore, that she’s as safe as she can possibly be in these circumstances, surrounded by friends.
And better than friends, in one particular case. Sorrel is still as she rests against Karlach’s front, ginger hair tickling red skin. Acknowledging that she’s there makes Karlach’s mechanical heart soar all over again—her lover is cuddling against her and she isn’t burning. She’s right here in Karlach’s arms, where nothing bad could ever happen to her.
Ever since Dammon’s upgrade, Sorrel took it upon herself to catch Karlach up on all the physical affection she missed out on—we’re talking constant hugs, unexpected kisses, and most importantly, cuddling in bed. All this attention has driven her to tears more often than she’d care to admit, and the best part is that it hasn’t stopped. You’d think one would get tired of being this attentive to her needs, but not Sorrel. No, she seems perfectly delighted to dote on Karlach at any given moment. It’s like a dream taken humanoid form.
Karlach traces her fingers up and down her lover’s wiry back, and in doing so, notices the tension there. Sorrel’s shoulders have knots in them, her neck stiff enough that Karlach suspects she could knock on the skin and hear a rock instead. Putting it simply, the wood elf is tense.
“Soldier,” Karlach whispers, brushing the hair away from Sorrel’s forehead with her thumb. “Wakey wakey.”
Sorrel stirs with a rumble in her throat, yet shows no sign of displeasure at being pulled from her elven meditation. “Mh. Hello, Karlach,” she mumbles, the Tiefling’s name sweet as honey on her tired lips. Her voice has always been on the deeper end, and in her sleepy state, it practically vibrates through Karlach’s chest.
She shifts her head to face forward, her nose brushing Karlach’s chin. “Is something the matter?”
“Your back,” Karlach replies, splaying her hand across the base of Sorrel’s neck. “It’s stiff as hell, soldier—do you live like this all the time?”
Sorrel lifts her hand, scrubs the sleep (or the closest version of it) out of her eyes. “Hm? I…I suppose I never really thought about it. So…yes?”
Karlach exhales sharply through her nose. “Babe, you either need a massage or killer sex right now, because ow. Let me help.”
Sorrel’s breath fans across Karlach’s neck when she laughs, soft and low. “I’ll admit I’m not in the mood for sex right now, but if a massage isn’t too much trouble…”
“You know who you’re talking to?” Karlach retorts. “I’ll take any chance I can to touch you, darling! Get up and I’ll show you what my hands are capable of outside of kicking evil ass.”
“You kick with your hands?” she replies, and it takes Karlach a couple beats to realize that the deadpan scamp is joking.
“Hardy-har. Get up.”
A moment later, Sorrel rests on her stomach with Karlach situated beside her. From this angle, Karlach is free to admire the landscape of her back, the cinnamon freckles sprinkled across her olive-green skin, the barest hint of muscles hiding underneath. “How’s that feel? You comfy?”
“As comfy as one can be without their beautiful, warm girlfriend as a pillow,” she laments, closing her eyes again. “I’m cold now and it’s all your fault.”
“You are so dramatic when you’re tired,” Karlach snorts. “Here I am trying to do something nice for you and you complain!”
Nevertheless, she brings her hands to Sorrel’s neck and begins to rub circles into the skin, working out the knots she can feel. Sorrel sighs, burying her face in her folded arms.
“That’s nice,” she murmurs. “You have magic hands, I swear.”
Karlach beams despite the fact that Sorrel can’t see it. “Not too rough for you, I take it?”
Sorrel chuckles. “You of all people know I can handle a little rough treatment.”
“Hey!” Karlach laughs, swatting her head in retaliation. “Don’t get me worked up if we're not gonna do it! It’s rude.”
The druid turns her head to smile innocently at her. “I promise I’ll make it up to you once I’m less tired. How’s that?”
“Deal.” Karlach resumes the massage, and the air around them seems to settle down again. This is nice, she decides—the almost domestic feeling of caring for another in nearly peaceful circumstances. It was always Sorrel taking care of Karlach—taking care of everybody, really. In the weeks that followed after the nautiloid crash, Sorrel quickly became the camp mom, listening to everyone’s problems and helping where she could. Karlach is grateful for the opportunity to take care of Sorrel instead. She deserves it after all she’s done for the camp.
Karlach is pulled from her reverie by a strange rumbling sound, like thunder on the horizon. After a moment of confusion, she realizes where the sound is coming from and immediately gasps.
“Holy shit! You purr?” She dips her head down to see her lover’s face, eyes glimmering with surprise and delight.
Sorrel’s mismatched eyes are wide and embarrassed. “Um…”
“Babe! How long have you been able to do this?” She presses her hand between Sorrel’s shoulder blades to feel the vibrations, unable to ward off her grin even if she tried. “How can you do this?”
Sorrel groans, propping her elbow up so she can press her face into her palm. “It’s—it’s a side effect of how often I use Wild Shape. My preferred form is a cat, so. I’ve adopted some catlike behaviors. Purring included.”
“Oh my gods,” Karlach whispers. “You’re so cute.” The purring only increases at that, earning a hearty laugh from Karlach.
“I can usually control it,” she explains through her hand. “However, you’ve relaxed me more than I’m used to, making it more difficult to concentrate on suppressing it.”
“Well, stop suppressing it!” The solution is obvious to Karlach, but it seems Sorrel is determined to maintain her no-nonsense persona around their friends. “It’s adorable and deserves attention.”
Sorrel huffs. “Easy for you to say. Shadowheart and Astarion would tear me to pieces if they knew. Have you ever been teased by both of them at once? It’s enough to make my hair fall out.”
Karlach giggles, leaning down to press her lips to Sorrel’s (thankfully still intact) hair. “Aw, darling, don’t worry about saving face. They have no place to make fun of anybody with all the shit they’ve got going on.”
That gets a faint chuckle from her. “I suppose. But I still don’t want them finding out.”
“So this is just for me, then?” Karlach replies happily. “I can work with that.”
“Of course you can,” Sorrel says, lazily batting at Karlach’s torso. “Drink it up now so you aren’t surprised whenever this happens again.”
With a final laugh, Karlach returns her hands to Sorrel’s back. This time, she doesn’t bother to conceal the purring, and Karlach isn’t exaggerating when she says that it’s the best thing to happen to her since escaping Avernus. How many can say they have an honest-to-gods cat girlfriend, after all?