#GhustilStornugoss hashtag - Bluesky

@tavyliasin.bsky.social

10 months ago

Ghustil Stornugoss didn’t so much hear the footsteps approaching as feel them through the stone of the floor. She measured the time between each step, judging the cadence of the gait, the mood of the wearer of tough boots punishing the path they walked. A slight smile teased across her face for a moment – an interesting interruption to her studies, at least. The liquid in the bottom of the flask she had been holding swirled once more in the light before she set it back down on the table with a soft clink. The experiment may not survive a prolonged break, but it was one that was easily repeated, though her subject may be displeased to learn another vial of blood was to be drawn. A problem for tomorrow’s Ghustil, she supposed. For now, her gloves were swiftly removed and carefully folded on the side of her workbench just as the door swung open to reveal the stormy face of her guest. “Kith’rak, a pleasure and a surprise. Is there something I may help you with?” She kept her expression mostly neutral, though one eyebrow raised as she noted the light hint of blush upon the other woman’s cheeks. Quickly locking the door and casting a quicker charm to keep the sound from leaving the room, she peered closer with some measure of concern. “Are you unwell, my Kith’rak?”

The very suggestion of illness was near laughable. No simple sickness should weaken a Kith’rak of Therezzyn’s standing, yet here she was– not entirely sick, yet feeling another fever begin to rise at the healer’s examination of her countenance. Careful fingers hovered a mere whisper away from touching her chin as the Ghustil guided her to turn left and right without any physical contact. “Open,” a simple instruction, simpler to follow as she stuck out her tongue. Therezzyn put her hands on her hips as Stornugoss stepped back, head tilting quizzically. “Well?” “I see no signs of sickness, my Kith’rak. What’s troubling you enough to bring yourself to my door?” She took a deep breath, the sickly sweet scent of old blood mixing with bitter vapours of potions she had no name for, the foul edge of death’s aroma adding to a cocktail of smells that were a comfort to a violent soul. It grounded her for a moment, but not enough. “Do you swear yourself to secrecy, in Vlaakith’s name, upon your sword?” “Upon my sword, in Vlaakith’s name, not a word shall be entered into the log.” Stornugoss placed a hand over her own heart, a solemn vow that could be trusted. Few were as loyal as the Ghustil or as single-mindedly dedicated to what must be done. “And your ward?” “Neither cry nor whisper will be heard beyond these walls, my Kith’rak. You may speak freely.”

I forgot to add the other tags to the above...
#BG3 #BG3NSFW #BG3Fic #BG3FanFic #GhustilStornugoss #KithrakTherezzyn #AO3
Better late than never~
As a further apology, here have a sample~