[open]

[heirring]

WHO: Wysteria & YOU
WHAT: Anchor-related adventures and/or drama in fantasy September.
WHEN: Kingsway
WHERE: Various
NOTES: Some anchor and rift-related peril; open stuff is in the comments, but may use this as a catch-all. If an open prompt doesn't suit you, feel free to wildcard me or hit me up and I can write something bespoke. Prose or brackets is a-okay.

Comments

[illithidnapped]

The kitten has stubborn little claws. How novel.

“Actually no. It’s surprisingly impossible for us to fall prey to illness of any sort— on account of us being dead and all.”

[heirring]

"Then I fail to see how you should know anything at all about identifying the severity of any illness—Did you say 'dead?'"

This all in one uninterrupted breath, running the gamut from patrician condescension to alarm and then right back to frowning. That's absurd. You're standing right before her, Astarion.

"If I was seriously ill, which I am not, it would be very cruel to be so cavalier with the truth in our conversation."

[illithidnapped]

“Does the word undead make it more bearable for your potentially addled brain? To die and still keep chattering away, being charming and devilishly handsome and all that.”

His smile is all teeth. All jagged teeth.

“A little less color in your cheeks and you might join me soon enough.”