There are ways in which I have become ruined

Paths dug deep be repeated footsteps over, and over, and over

Repetitions making wounds, carving scars

Weaving through the folds of my being

Reinforcing

Security in the pattern, familiarity in the motions

I walk with my eyes closed knowing every step,

And the cuts get a little deeper

Scars get a little thicker

More permanent

There are ways in which I have become ruined,

In the things I tell myself

And the comfort I get from the safety of walking a well worn path

"You hide it from him,"

Halsins voice. Deep, warm. Mira looked up from where she had been gazing sightlessly into the fire before her.

"I'm sorry, Halsin, I was miles away. What was that?" She asked quietly, tone soft yet curious. The large druid stood a respectful distance away, but now gestured with a single hand to indicate if he could sit. Mira nodded.

"Forgive me for saying so, but I feel we are on fair enough terms with each other to ask. When Astarion is not looking, you cease to hide that sad expression of yours. Why not let him see it?"

In a bold but telegraphed move, Halsin slowly raised a large, calloused hand to her cheek. When she did not reject this, he gently thumbed her cheekbone, eyes searching her face for any sign of disquiet at this new contact between them.

"Hm... you're forgiven," the cleric murmured, leaning into the touch. The moment she did so, Halsin breathed in sharply, his movements stuttering. He swallowed audibly, breaking contact between them in the same slow and measured way that he had initiated it. Mira neither chased the touch nor did she question its end, returning her gaze to the fire in the space of the comfortable pause between them.

"He has enough going on." She answered after a few moments.

"We are none of us without our troubles. To unburden oneself with a loved one is to have such pains lifted, even in small measure. Do you think him unable to carry you, as you carry him?" The low rumble of his voice was so soothing. Mira smirked, blowing out a short breath as she shook her head.

"No. It's not that. I think I like it, keeping him believing that I'm..." she waved a hand.

"You are incredible, Mira. A blind man could see it."

"You flatter me."

"You underestimate yourself."

"Touché."

The fire crackled, small pockets of sap popping as they came to a boil from the heat. It smelled delightful, even if the freshness of the wood caused extra smoke to raise towards the sky. Thankfully, there was no wind to blow it to their faces.

"There, that's the look." He rumbled, "That one right there. The one that says you're hurting. I hope I do not overstep in saying that I ache to see it."

"... you're not overstepping. I don't think I have an answer for you, though. I think I just got used to putting on a brave face, honestly." She shrugged, posture tightening as she wrapped her arms around knees now drawn up towards her chest.

"You need not be brave with me." The druid offered, hand presented in the space between them. Palm up, resting on the ground. An offer.

Still gazing at the fire, Mira reached over to give that warm, large hand a single squeeze. Then she let go, returning to herself.

"... I know."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Authors note: reblogs, comments and replies are appreciated!

NSFW drabble- Gale x You

Gale would wake you up a little early, but make up for it with a hot cup of your favorite coffee/tea set down beside you

Followed by full body rubs from your shoulders to your feet as you slowly rotate and slide out of bed, enchanted by the smell of your morning treat

He pauses you half off the bed and bends you back over. The massages turn into him making love to you slowly as you rest with your head in the sheets, him moving inside you from behind

The room full of soft gasps and sighs, he's attentive to every sound you make- this is for you, for him, for both of you. He finishes first, pulling out like a gentleman because this is the early morning, he wants to make sure you don't have to clean yourself up.

In a moment he's on his knees at the edge of the bed, licking every trace of his own spill from your skin as he works his fingers inside of you, pulling you close rand closer to the edge. It's unhurried, unrushed. You're still waking up, blinking and arching and enjoying every second.

The heat coiling slowly within you builds to a heady crescendo as the wizards tongue joins his fingers and he rides out every contraction, twitch, and shiver until he is completely satisfied that he's wrong every second of pleasure from your body.

A warm, damp cloth tidies you as you yawn, followed by a dry one patting away any evidence of damp.

"mmm, is my... drink still warm...?" You murmur, standing finally with a languid stretch. Turning, you're faced with a smirking wizard whose hands briefly glow around the mug, causing it to steam anew.

"Of course it is, my love."

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