Sahiriel/Archturus Cutscene

It's late. Bashir is asleep, curled on his side like a babe still in the womb. A black curl lolls over his forehead, stirring slightly with each breath he puffs through his mouth. When he sleeps, he looks so much like a child—and he is, despite the world's attempts to age him prematurely. It's safe here for the moment. The worst of the threats are gone. Despite the chill in the air outside the chateau's walls, the room is warm, and well-stocked with blankets. There is nothing keeping you here any longer, paladin; you can finally go to Sahiriel. [[Go to her, covering Bashir with a blanket on your way out.]]

If the boy senses your kindness, he doesn't show it; not even the metronomic rhythm of his eyes moving beneath his lids changes. He remains, seeming so much smaller than he does in his waking hours, at rest as you quietly leave the room. The door latches softly behind you. A moment later, you're standing before the one that leads to Sahiriel's quarters. She's behind it; shadows cast by her body and the warm glow of her candles spill out through the gap beneath the door. She asked you here—//specifically// asked you to come to her tonight. To //come to bed// tonight. She's never done that before. Your first night together was so much simpler than this, but that seems ages ago now, and so much has happened in between. You've fought together. You've saved each other's lives. You've held her limp body in your arms, dark, bloody foam flecking the corners of her mouth. You've kissed her lips before and left them bruised, but never arterial red. Her life nearly ebbed from her completely, there in your embrace. She nearly died there on the road. Worse, she nearly became something other, something irrevocably //else//. As you stand there, what are you thinking? [[You're recalling the better parts of your time together: the warm, smooth glide of her legs against yours, her skin softer than the sheets; the way she so shamelessly met your gaze as you moved together, and the sounds you pulled from her throat (even in the throes of pleasure, her cries are melodic, the filth that spills from between her lips an obscene kind of poetry); the bell-like chime of her laughter, and the way she watches you so carefully when there's danger afoot; the scent of her hair, and the way she slipped her arm over your waist as you began to dress and leave, as though in sleep she could admit she didn't want you to go.]] [[You're anxious and wondering what in the hells she wants. The way she lowered her chin when she made the request, rather than the defiant lift she usually adopts when she speaks to you—what was that about?]]

You wait but a moment longer before you knock on Sahiriel's door. In the silence of the chateau, you hear her stand, then pause before striding across the room to answer. You suspect this was purposeful; she didn't want to appear too eager. She flips the latch, then turns the knob. She opens it halfway. Her black hair, glossy with a blue-green sheen that makes each strand look like a raven's feather, is tied up and back tonight. A pair of braids flanks each side and is tucked into the band keeping all but the faintest wisps off her neck and shoulders. "You came," she says. [["Of course I did."]] [["You asked me to."]] [["Not yet."]]

Something is definitely different about Sahiriel lately. She seems more somber, her transitions from silence to sarcasm or dark comedy more jarring. It's like she's begun having difficulty switching between one facet of herself and another. How well do you know her, really? How do you know what she's shown you of herself amounts to anything real? You wait a moment longer before you knock on Sahiriel's door. In the silence of the chateau, you hear her stand, then pause before striding across the room to answer. You suspect this was purposeful; she didn't want to appear too eager. She flips the latch, then turns the knob. She opens it halfway. Her black hair, glossy with a blue-green sheen that makes each strand look like a raven's feather, is tied up and back tonight. A pair of braids flanks each side and is tucked into the band keeping all but the faintest wisps off her neck and shoulders. "You came," she says. [["Of course I did."]] [["You asked me to."]] [["Not yet."]]

Something in her opalescent gaze softens and she steps aside to let you pass. You brush against the impossibly soft fabric of her oversized knit tunic. Its embroidery is impeccable, gold thread glimmering against a mossy background. You realize you've seen her wear it before, only then she belted it, making the fit appear more tailored. Now she wears it for comfort, with no slip or corset underneath—just a pair of dyed, yet otherwise simple, harem pants. Sahiriel closes the door behind you and turns the latch again. When you turn to face her, she folds her arms and leans against the opposite wall. "Take off your armor." You blink. You almost forgot you were wearing it. For you, it's as comfortable as the finest cushions and bedding. But perhaps not for her. She looks so serious. Is she making another pass at you? Or is something more going on there? [[Obey.]] [[Ask her why.]]

She nods. "I did. Yes." Then she steps aside to let you pass. You brush against the impossibly soft fabric of her oversized knit tunic. Its embroidery is impeccable, gold thread glimmering against a mossy background. You realize you've seen her wear it before, only then she belted it, making the fit appear more tailored. Now she wears it for comfort, with no slip or corset underneath—just a pair of dyed, yet otherwise simple, harem pants. Sahiriel closes the door behind you and turns the latch again. When you turn to face her, she folds her arms and leans against the opposite wall. "Take off your armor." You blink. You almost forgot you were wearing it. For you, it's as comfortable as the finest cushions and bedding. But perhaps not for her. She looks so serious. Is she making another pass at you? Or is something more going on there? [[Obey.]] [[Ask her why.]]

She rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of a smile curling the corners of her lips. She steps aside to let you pass. You brush against the impossibly soft fabric of her oversized knit tunic. Its embroidery is impeccable, gold thread glimmering against a mossy background. You realize you've seen her wear it before, only then she belted it, making the fit appear more tailored. Now she wears it for comfort, with no slip or corset underneath—just a pair of dyed, yet otherwise simple, harem pants. Sahiriel closes the door behind you and turns the latch again. When you turn to face her, she folds her arms and leans against the opposite wall. "Take off your armor." You blink. You almost forgot you were wearing it. For you, it's as comfortable as the finest cushions and bedding. But perhaps not for her. She looks so serious. Is she making another pass at you? Or is something more going on there? [[Obey.]] [[Ask her why.]]

Whether it's because you've sensed a greater purpose to her plea, or because you're eager to feel her come nearer to you, you begin dismantling the suit of armor encasing you. Sahiriel watches you the whole time, her eyes flicking to each piece as you lay it aside. She chews her thumbnail, gaze dark and distant, as if she struggles with some monumental decision that revolves around your armor, of all things. Once you've completely removed it and the last piece has left your hand, she pushes off from the wall and closes the distance. You can easily imagine her grabbing your shirt and pulling you down into a kiss the way she has before, but instead she slips her arms around your ribs, pressing her face into the fabric over your chest and taking in a great lungful of your smell. Her eyes are closed as she holds you so tight it nearly hurts, rubbing her cheek against you like a cat meaning to mark you with its scent. Locks of hair tumble out of her loosely tied band until it comes apart, freeing a deluge of nacreous black. She pays it no mind; her focus is entirely on you. Sahiriel's voice is muffled as she says into your chest, "Don't let me go. //Please.// I will do whatever you desire if, just for this moment, you don't let me go." [[Keep her close, but inquire as to what is wrong.]] [[Gently extricate yourself from her and ask what's wrong.]]

"Just take it off," she answers. And then, more quietly, she adds, "Please..." Something in her voice makes it a little hard for you to swallow. There's definitely something else at play here. [[Oblige her.]]

Sahiriel doesn't immediately answer. For a long time, she just holds onto you. At length, she lifts her face from your chest and replaces it with her chin so that she can look straight up into your eyes. "I had a bad dream," she tells you. [["Tell me."]] [["Seriously? That's what you called me here for?"]]

Sahiriel frowns at the distance you've imposed. Stepping away from you of her own volition now, she says, "I... I had a bad dream." [["Tell me."]] [["Seriously? That's what you called me here for?"]]

"I..." She blinks in surprise and perhaps a bit of shock, the way someone does when they've just been slapped. Then, with such little effort it's concerning, she replaces the look with a smirk. "Yes. I did. I was hoping you'd tuck me in." She returns to your orbit, grasping the front of your shirt to guide you toward her bed. Though you have no audience, her performance tonight proves impeccable, though something about it is different. This time, she does not ask you to stay. THE END.

She hesitates. Her teeth find the cushion of her lower lip and press in. [[Kiss her forehead to reassure her.]] [[Claim her mouth to distract her from uncertainty.]] [["Well? Are you going to tell me?"]]

You gently press your lips to the dark elf's forehead, finding it cool and smooth despite her years. She closes her eyes, long lashes tickling your beard, then reopens them and blows a sigh through her nose. Her fingers curl in your shirt. "I dreamed I failed the people I loved and had vowed to protect so completely that it let something dark and sickly crawl inside me. I dreamed it curled around my heart and squeezed until something good and whole inside me died. Then it did it again, and again, until there was almost nothing left of what made me who I am—until the very concept of me was obliterated from the fabric of reality itself. "But then... Then someone reached inside me. They wrapped their hand around the serpent in my breast and pulled it from me, along with all its venom. They lifted my body from the dirt and made sure I was safe. They saved me... and yet..." Sahiriel averts her eyes. "And yet so much of me feels... wrong. Tainted. Made lesser by the damage. Like my soul is scarred. Is that something that can happen? Can you remove a curse early enough that the victim lives, but too late to really save them?" [[Tell her that isn't what happened to her. She's alive, and she's whole.]] [[Tell her you don't know.]]

You bend your head, silencing her as you press your lips to hers. Sahiriel stiffens with surprise, then opens for you, tilting her head and leaning up on her tiptoes to shorten the distance. As you cradle the back of her skull in your hand, supporting the small of her back with your other, she withdraws to look up at you. "I dreamed I failed the people I loved and had vowed to protect so completely that it let something dark and sickly crawl inside me. I dreamed it curled around my heart and squeezed until something good and whole inside me died. Then it did it again, and again, until there was almost nothing left of what made me who I am—until the very concept of me was obliterated from the fabric of reality itself. "But then... Then someone reached inside me. They wrapped their hand around the serpent in my breast and pulled it from me, along with all its venom. They lifted my body from the dirt and made sure I was safe. They saved me... and yet..." Sahiriel averts her eyes. "And yet so much of me feels... wrong. Tainted. Made lesser by the damage. Like my soul is scarred. Is that something that can happen? Can you remove a curse early enough that the victim lives, but too late to really save them?" [[Tell her that isn't what happened to her. She's alive, and she's whole.]] [[Tell her you don't know.]]

She's steeling herself for something. Even though you don't know what it is, you can tell she's galvanized, something inside her turning to steel in preparation for... what? Rejection? Can it be she's that fond of you? "I dreamed I failed the people I loved and had vowed to protect so completely that it let something dark and sickly crawl inside me," she says. "I dreamed it curled around my heart and squeezed until something good and whole inside me died. Then it did it again, and again, until there was almost nothing left of what made me who I am—until the very concept of me was obliterated from the fabric of reality itself. "But then... Then someone reached inside me. They wrapped their hand around the serpent in my breast and pulled it from me, along with all its venom. They lifted my body from the dirt and made sure I was safe. They saved me... and yet..." Sahiriel averts her eyes. "And yet so much of me feels... wrong. Tainted. Made lesser by the damage. Like my soul is scarred. Is that something that can happen? Can you remove a curse early enough that the victim lives, but too late to really save them?" [[Tell her that isn't what happened to her. She's alive, and she's whole.]] [[Tell her you don't know.]]

"Am I?" she says, pulling away from you to return to biting her thumbnail. "Did I come back from the brink of worse-than-death with all my pieces? It doesn't feel that way. It feels like //she// is still inside me, like she staked a claim that will never go away. I... I don't feel like I'll ever be without her again. Like I'll ever be truly //me// again." She drops her arms then. The sleeves of her tunic cover almost her entire hands. "I'm sorry. This isn't what you're here for. This isn't... what we do." [[Offer to check her for any lingering damage—whatever will give her a little peace.]] [[She's right; this isn't what you do. You can offer her comfort, though perhaps not the kind she most needs.]]

This doesn't soothe her. "Neither do I. And that's the trouble. Isn't there something you can do? I suppose I could ask Martine, but..." Uncertainly, she wets her lips. "...but I thought first of you. Maybe you'd rather I didn't in the future." [[Offer to check her for any lingering damage—whatever will give her a little peace.]] [[She's right; this isn't what you do. You can offer her comfort, though perhaps not the kind she most needs.]]

Sahiriel blows another breath through her nose. It might be a laugh. If it is, it's a mirthless one. "You want to play doctor? Is that it?" [["Yes."]] [["No."]]

Sahiriel blows another breath through her nose. It might be a laugh. If it is, it's a mirthless one. Without another word, she takes you to bed. She is skillful, she is dexterous, and her attention to your pleasure is beyond compare. But she does not kiss you this time, and when it is over, she does not try to make you stay. Once you're gone, she locks the door behind you. THE END.

Without another word, she takes you to bed. She is skillful, she is dexterous, and her attention to your pleasure is beyond compare. But she does not kiss you this time, and when it is over, she does not try to make you stay. Once you're gone, she locks the door behind you. THE END.

Despite how serious the matter is, the flirtation paints a smirk across Sahiriel's lips. "You're cheeky," she says, sitting on the edge of the piece of tufted furniture. Then, swinging her legs over, she reclines without undressing. "Go on, then. Take a look." [[Begin the exam.]] [[Begin the exam, but in more of a hands-on capacity than is strictly necessary.]]

"All right," she says, making her way over. "But it's a settee." Still, Sahiriel sits on the edge of the piece of tufted furniture. Then, swinging her legs over, she reclines. [["Put your hands above your head."]] [[Begin the exam.]]

Your hands glow as you infuse them with magic, a brilliant gold that you dim to match the candlelight. Slowly, methodically, you pass them through the space just above Sahiriel's body, letting them direct you to any lingering evil or negative energy Corsa might have infused her with. Sahiriel watches you, fixated on your face, trying to read your expression. You know she doesn't fully trust you to tell her the truth. She thinks you're too fond of her to break her heart that way. But there's nothing to tell. She's all right. Whatever is affecting her is limited to her psyche, though that's just as much a wound as anything else. [["You have nothing to worry about. The darkness Corsa put inside you hasn't lingered."]]

Your hands glow as you infuse them with magic, a brilliant gold that you dim to match the candlelight. Slowly, methodically, you pass them over Sahiriel's body, beginning with her long, luxurious hair. The strands are silken and perfumed with fine oils; she must have washed recently, probably in preparation for your arrival. She makes a small noise in the back of her throat when you touch them, half-approval, half-appreciation. As her eyes begin to close, you let your fingertips wander to the sharp angles of her ears. She takes a sharp breath through her nose, nostrils flaring, head tipping back and in the same direction of your touch. You've played with her ears like this before, exploited their sensitivity in moments of passion, and it's clear she remembers this as well. She shifts on the settee, bending one knee a little, clearly trying not to give in to the desire to squirm. She wants to deny you the satisfaction just as much as she wants you to remain aware of your greater purpose. "I doubt there's any evil in my ears," she playfully scolds. You move on, down the elegant slope of her neck, the cut-glass shear of her jaw, over the exposed curve of her throat, gliding one of your thumbs into its hollow while the other fingers just barley tickle her jugular. Sahiriel tenses again, opening her eyes to level you with an intense stare. Wordlessly, she tips her chin up, daring you to squeeze. This time, //you// deny //her// satisfaction. In due time, your palms skate across her breasts, finding them easily charted beneath the soft material clinging to them. Then down the plane of her stomach, making the fine muscles there spasm in curious anticipation. You find the tender skin just inside the swell of her hips and skirt your touch there too, flooding the visible portions of her with goosebumps. When you delve lower, she involuntarily raises a knee, granting you more access. You make it to her feet at last, all the while letting your magic direct you to any lingering evil or negative energy Corsa might have infused her with. All the while, Sahiriel watches you, fixated on your face, trying to read your expression. You know she doesn't fully trust you to tell her the truth. She thinks you're too fond of her to break her heart that way. But there's nothing to tell. She's all right. Whatever is affecting her is limited to her psyche, though that's just as much a wound as anything else. [["You have nothing to worry about. The darkness Corsa put inside you hasn't lingered."]]

Despite how serious the matter is, the command paints a smirk across Sahiriel's lips. "Like this?" she asks, raising her arms so that her knuckles touch the armrest behind her head, crossed at the wrists. "You're cheeky. Go on, then. Take a look." [[Begin the exam.]] [[Begin the exam, but in more of a hands-on capacity than is strictly necessary.]]

"Are you certain?" she asks, voice considerably tighter than it was before. She searches your expression again and seems almost annoyed when she finds only the truth there. "Then why do I feel so..." She trails off, seeking the right word. Again she crosses her arms over her chest. Finally she settles on, "...broken? And what if... What if that brokenness creeps into you too? What if what's inside me can still crawl out and make others sick? I..." She looks away again. It's so unlike her. "I would not dim your light." [[Reassure her this is not the case. She's all right, at least physically, and the rest will sort itself out in time. Meanwhile, she's allowed to put on less of a performance, at least for your sake. You don't mind seeing who she is behind the scenes.]] [[Reassure her this is not the case. She's all right, at least physically, and that's what really matters. Her emotional well-being is not your responsibility, though you're still up for providing a certain kind of comfort, should she still want you to.]]

Sahiriel drums her fingernails on her own arms, seeming uncomfortable with this concept. For a moment you think it's because she's not as attached to you as perhaps you are to her, but... no, it's not that. She wouldn't have asked you here if you meant nothing to her. Hells, she could have called upon Martine, were that the case. They're close. Just not //this// close, you realize. This is something that really matters to her. Something she would not ask of anyone else. A weakness she would not expose, were it anyone but you. Her swallow is thick. It seems painful. "Everyone thinks they want to know what goes on behind the scenes. But they don't want to stay there, you know. After all, they came here for the show, and when the lights go down, that's where they'll be—back out there in the audience, watching. //Expecting.// You will too." It sounds like she's trying to remind herself of this more than she is trying to convince you. A wall between you is showing signs of crumbling. Whether you keep encouraging her to knock it down is up to you. But it won't happen tonight. Not the way she's looking at you. "I will permit you to take off my clothes now," she says, refusing to let the tears in her eyes fall. And so she does. For every inch of dusky skin you expose, she unveils an inch of yours, bracketing your hips with her thighs as she sits up to press her body to you. You are of almost even height this way—you on your knees on the floor, she perched on the edge of the settee—but there's just enough of a difference that you needn't take her to the bed. You'll fit inside her just as well right here. She kisses you, but not how she did the last time. This kiss is slower, deeper, and far more gentle. The tip of her nose brushes yours, your jaw cradled in her grasp as she bids you to stay right here, right where she can taste you. Your wandering hands find her ready for you as always, yet something feels different about this tryst. There is no performance here, or if there is, it's stripped down to its most raw components. Sahiriel is //with// you in a way she has never been before, //present// and //engaged//, not thinking about what she ought to do next that might make you ask for an encore. That might make you remember her once you've left. When you take her amid the flickering candlelight, you feel like she might be yours. THE END.

Sahiriel drums her fingernails on her own arms, seeming somehow dissatisfied. "I shouldn't have bothered you with this," she surmises. "I should have asked Martine." Still, she does not dismiss you. As she sits up, drawing her body to yours, she grasps the hem of her tunic and lifts it off. "Get to comforting me, then." And, in this limited way you now both know is all you have to offer, you do. THE END.

She's assessing you. She does this a lot—looks into you, //through// you, always checking for some hidden truth. Then she says, "You're serious. All right, then. Will I need to disrobe?" [["No. Just lie down there on the sofa."]] [["No. But it wouldn't hurt..."]]