#tavqotd

Xal makes promises as easily as he breaks them. For him, promises are simply a means of manipulation and often an easy way to get what he wants.
If respect does not bind him to the person to whom he makes a promise, then promises, words and vows mean nothing to him.

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Insistent attempts to ‘heal’ or ‘fix’ him.
Xal loves and is proud of himself just as he is.
If anyone tries to change him "for the better" in a moral sense, at best he will consider them a naive fool, and at worst, he will see it as a profound lack of respect for his person.

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Easy. Easier than he’d like.
All it takes is to show a genuine interest in Xal's life and offer unobtrusive care. He’s hardly ever experienced either of these things in his life, which is why he’s so fond of this kind of treatment.

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It depends on the circumstances.
On the one hand, Xal takes pride in the fact that, despite everything, he is still alive; that after all the suffering and humiliation he has endured, he was able to get on his feet and move forward in pursuit of his ambitions and dreams.

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No... and yes.
He grew up amongst the Drow in a noble Drow House.
He had no nannies; instead, he had cruel teachers and even more cruel, sadistic sisters.
After his death and rebirth, he found himself as an adopted child in the family of noble merchants from Damara.

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A realist, and sometimes a fatalist – which, in his case, is pretty much the same thing.

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Xal rarely smokes cigarettes, and when he does, it’s usually only when he’s in a particularly melancholic mood. He much prefers a hookah. For him, a hookah is associated with fun, whereas cigarettes are associated with sadness.

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Xal’s stepbrother would probably have said that Xal was winter in the flesh for everyone else but him. Cold, aloof, solitary, and breathtakingly beautiful.
But to him, Xal was more like early spring, when the snow had not yet melted but the sun had already begun to melt it.

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Well... now Xal sleeps standing up... even though it might look a bit creepy, lol.
And before he became an Illithid, he preferred to meditate lying diagonally or even across a double bed.
If someone was lying in bed with him, it didn’t matter to him which side he lay on.

Let me guess, this elevator also only activates in reaction to that rune on your sword's hilt or others like it?
Clever. I respect the effort, and understand the paranoia.
Ayumu smirked, but suddenly grew pensive. Her gaze lingered on the rune for a little while, silently wondering about something.

Despite being instinctively light-footed, Ayumu stepping onto the silver metal elevator sent a dull echo through the empty room.
Thoughtfully scratching the back of her head, Ayumu's gaze wandered up as if to peer through the ceiling at what awaits beyond it.
— Both intrigues me, but… upwards first.

If so… it may be worthwhile to investigate this. Perhaps we could manage to locate the core of the magic behind it all; our Illithid psionic senses far surpass humanoid perception. I'd be interested in studying those alleged systems... such implementations could serve the KotS headquarters well too.

Any trespassing fools undoubtedly only ended up incinerated by the turrets and became one more skeleton among many lying about in the courtyard, or were caught by the traps.
Hmm... I suppose it's not implausible that there is something to those legends about hidden restoration mechanisms, after all.

— It is intriguing indeed for us to find the castle in this immaculate of a condition, despite everything that's happened to it. I cannot sense anyone's presence either, and yet… somehow this place doesn’t feel as abandoned to me as it logically should. Makes no sense... no one could be here, right?

I like it… something about its ominous bizzarity draws me in.
I can't help but wonder what the Emperor's impression of your grand underground nest would be, ever the child of the surface he is.
A tender smile stole itself into Ayumu's lavender eyes, more the smile of an Illithid than that of a Drow.

The word 'huge' seems an understatement. Outside on that bridge, it felt like you and I are merely two tiny flies and your castle the fossilized corpse of an enormous spider that had melded with the rock ages ago.
This sort of warped, twisted beauty is unlike anything you'd encounter on the surface.

— Remarkable…
Up until entering this dark circular room, Ayumu had been taking in the grandeur of the castle exterior in almost reverent silence.
— I thought our mansion to be huge, and within Baldur's Gate's architectural landscape, it truly is - but this? This place is something else entirely.

Magnificent 🖤 The Hunter D castle almost resembles a HUGE spider with those many bridges leading down like long legs, how perfect for a Drow castle.

#TavQOTD

He <3

To most of everyone else, Ayumu is at best the reserved, mysterious, unpredictable Left Hand of the Emperor, or at worst, simply an abomination. Both are aspects Ayumu herself embraces and takes great pleasure and pride in.

#TavQOTD

There's... a lot Ayumu prefers to only ever show those few she trusts.
Gentleness, care. Rare, almost childlike joy.
A genuine unguarded smile, often accompanied by pain or melancholy.
Just overall, the vulnerable traumatized fool that remains after all her masks have been stripped away.

Though, hopefully you find what it is you wanted there.

Noticeably intrigued, Ayumu briefly studied the sleek black arch which shimmered slightly due to being wetted by the rain, before offering you her hand with a gentle smile.
- Would you like my support to walk or will you be alright without it?

Ayumu's gaze pensively drifted off for a moment before she shook her head almost imperceptibly, discarding her train of thought.

- Well, as you said, let's head to your old home first of all. I never thought I'd visit a Drow castle someday, let alone such an old one. Or, well... what's left of it.

Not that I believe a single word that came out the scum's rotten mouth, but... thinking back to the conversation in the pub, I do find it odd that the barkeep Lysanthir said something similar about your brother having ended up in the slums, amongst the trash there.
What a strange, cruel coincidence.

Ayumu sighed, left your neck alone, looking at you with a hint of melancholy.
- And... I'm sorry about your brother. It seems everyone from your past we meet here only stabs a knife into that old wound of yours, each in their own way. The scum just now, and Lysanthir also said... something.
...
Hmm.

Whenever we run into that scum again, and somehow I feel it wasn't the last time we saw him, I will make him strangle himself with his own bloody whip.
Though it would be just as satisfying to watch my sword's biomass melt that smug mocking grin off his face while he's slowly eaten and devoured.
...

A pained grimace formed on Ayumu's face whilst carefully inspecting the wound left behind by the Drow's whip.
- Hopefully that doesn't end up getting infected. Such whip wounds are absolutely no joke... but who am I telling that? You know this all too well, regretfully.

Xal might not sleep lying down, but Ayumu has dozed off in his embrace before during daytime while they were reading a book together or just hugging each other.
Sleeping soundly in anyone else's presence was completely unthinkable to Ayumu for so long, and even now, it's limited to those she trusts.

Preferably, Ayumu sleeps cuddled up to her partners.
The Emperor also sleeps lying down and remained attached to resting in a bed even as an Illithid. At times, Ayumu is his "pillow", other times the other way around. Really, any position that allows for closeness and feeling the other's heartbeat.