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Kashaw has never needed a holy symbol or a temple or a shrine to worship Vesh; her mark is permanently etched onto his body. There are times when he could forget it's there, but they are only ever brief.
Then there are the times when he can't forget at all.
The pain starts slowly, near his elbow, what could be just a twinge from sleeping in the unfamiliar Whitestone guest quarters. Not enough to rouse him all the way from sleep. Bit it intensifies rapidly, and Kash rolls out of bed to his feet, then drops to one knee.
"My Lady," he murmurs, though he knows he needn't speak aloud. "What may I do for you?"
Oh, do get up, his wife-slash-goddess says, Her voice at once irritated and amused. Get armed. You're about to have company.
Kash rises and gestures with his right hand; the spiritual weapon he chooses is a large spiky mace, since it expresses his grumpiness at being woken up. For some reason it's wooden. He imagines that's because one of the first sights to see in Whitestone is the Sun Tree, which tends to impress on one's mind the majesty of plants.
That, and he's developed an aversion to metal things that cut.
He moves to stand behind the door, mace raised, listening intently. The sound of footfalls in the hallway is almost inaudible, but he catches them, catches when they stop outside his door. The soft click of picks in the lock takes but a moment to open it, and the door swings open.
Kashaw's arm shoots out, grasping the erstwhile assassin by the scruff of the neck and yanking. "Hello there," he says pleasantly. "Thanks for coming to the meeting!"
The assassin looks baffled.
"Of my mace and your face," Kash clarifies, before swinging the former solidly into the latter. The assassin tries to scream, but it's a difficult thing to do when one's mouth is full of shattered teeth. Apparently maces still work marvelously when made of thick oak.
Kash's second blow comes down on the top of the assassin's skull, sending it to the floor. He considers hitting it one more time, but nobody with that much brain on the outside—short of an intellect devourer—is going to get back up.
He knows there's no way this is the only one. Grabbing his pants, he steps into them and starts yanking them up even as he's moving into the hallway.
"What in the Nine Hells?" He blinks at the surprisingly large quantity of black-clothed people in the hallway and hefts his mace. "Zee? Zahra!"
"Here!"
He sees her red skin through the amassed black in the hallway, and then a flash of paler skin as Pike streaks down the hallway, swinging her mace and yelling.
The next few minutes are a shambles of loud noise and blood. By the end of it there's a stack of bodies—Kash hauls his out to join them—and none of them are his friends.
He likes it when his friends aren't dead.
The next little while—minutes, hours, he's not sure—are taken up with moving the bodies downstairs and cleaning up the blood. He's aware that there's more going on, more to the fight than just these black-clothed bastards, but he's not getting involved unless he's personally invited. Not that Kash is a coward; it's just that he's heard there's an actual literal hellspawn involved, and—well. He's got his Goddess; he doesn't need to mess with anyone else's destiny, wicked or divine.
After stacking the bodies like so much firewood in one of the disused downstairs rooms, Kash goes to his room to wash the blood off and finish dressing. He doesn't foresee any more sleep for himself this night.
Husband.
Kashaw hastens to kneel by the bed like a child at prayer. "My Lady."
The bright one fights well.
She can only mean Keyleth. It's not about her hair or her magical aura; it's about how she looks to Vesh through the filter of Kash's emotions. "She does."
She would be a worthy partner.
Kashaw keeps his eyes fixed on the crosshatched marks on his arm. There are, he has heard, certain people who use ritual scarification alongside the more conventional piercings and tattoos as a part of their culture and their magic. He doubts any of them would look like this. Like an old wooden chopping board scored by years of being hit by a meat cleaver. There isn't a night that goes by without him wondering why him.
"I have you, my Lady."
Do you never think of taking a mortal partner?
"Would you treat them the same way you treated the rest of my loved ones?" Kash snaps.
Vesh sounds contrite when she responds. Contrite, of all things. I had little understanding of how it would affect you.
"Wholesale slaughter usually only has one effect."
Vesh is silent for a long moment. Kashaw knows better than to assume that she's gone, though. Apart from anything else, his arm itches. He's thought of a number of ways to try to lift the geas of their marriage: restoration spells, remove curse, flaying off the top layer or ten of his skin. He's quite certain none of them would work.
You would be well suited to the bright one.
"I have you, my Lady," Kash repeats. "I am the light to your darkness."
Times are coming when darker things than I may roam. Vesh sounds pensive now; he doesn't think he's ever heard her sound anything other than dark and gleeful and malicious. Ally yourself with more light, Husband. Let her be the light to your light.
Kash feels the dark chill of her presence fully envelope and move through his body. He's glad he's kneeling by the bed so he can lean on it for support; gladder still that he closed and locked the door.
She may be a cold lover, but She is also a considerate one; whatever pleasure it is that She finds in this frigid merging of their bodies, She always manages to make a little warmth for him. Kash drops his head to his forearm, biting the scarred skin as Vesh finishes him off.
It means that he has to strip off his pants and clean up again, but he literally can't complain.
Kash doesn't remember who said they should regroup in the sitting room—probably Percy, even under stress he retains the trappings of formality, maybe even more so. At any rate, he practically collides with Zahra.
"You're freezing," she observes as she hugs him.
"Vesh visited." Kash spies a modest liquor cabinet across the room and makes for it, blowing dust off a squat glass tumbler and uncorking a bottle of whiskey. He gives Zahra a questioning look; she shakes her head and Kash pours only for himself. The tawny liquid smells well-aged, and the burn on his tongue serves to offset the lingering chill of his wife's embrace quite nicely. Zahra arranges the wood in the fireplace and lights a fire that's soon blazing brightly.
Kash is a third of the way into the glass, a pleasant warmth chasing away the last of Vesh's touch, and enjoying the plush chair that he's claimed, when Keyleth comes back.
Well. It's not just Keyleth. Percy, Vex, Scanlan, and Grog are with her. Vax, who was with them, has disappeared. Kash assumes that, since the others don't appear distressed, he's probably fine, wherever he is.
But Kash only takes a second to process all this, because all he can really see is Keyleth.
She has blood and dirt on her skin and clothes, her flame-red hair is sleep-tangled, and she is still so bright to him.
He barely notices how the others arrange themselves; all he can focus on is how she comes to him, examines the options that his seating position presents to her, and perches on the arm of the chair. Not uncomfortably, either; she fits herself against the chair's padding as though she's putting roots down through it to the solid wood underneath.
Percy and Zahra are cuddled up to Vex, and Kash does vaguely notice that Vax isn't with them, but since Vex isn't actively homicidal he assumes that wherever Vax is, he's safe.
Keyleth leans into him, and Kash hesitates a moment before slipping his scarred arm around her waist. She smiles at him, shy but clearly pleased with herself, and Kash thinks, light to my light.