Work Text:
A date.
A… date.
A date.
It felt odd to Shadowheart, even as she sat at the table, waiting for it.
A date.
After everything that had happened, to finally be allotted just enough time, normalcy, and security to go on a date was… surreal. It was just one - they were only allowed one - but that was more than she would’ve ever expected with an illithid tadpole in her brain. Tav had allowed her and Lae’zel just enough gold to afford a dinner at one of the fancier restaurants in Baldur’s Gate, which was ever so generous of her. They were promised protection and yet privacy; discretion with peace of mind. Tav and the others wouldn’t pry into their affairs obviously, but they also wouldn’t need to worry about Bhaalists or Sharrans or Banites ambushing them while they ate. Shadowheart was allowed to dress comfortably and - more importantly - utterly devastatingly.
She’d insisted on going separately from Lae’zel just so the Gith would get a nice, fat surprise when she arrived. Seeing Shadowheart in a flowing, form-fitting, silvery dress with some additional, jeweled flair would probably knock her flat on her stupid, Gith ass. Shadowheart’s only fear was that she might be so thoroughly entranced by her that she’d try to ravish her right there in the middle of the restaurant.
Shadowheart smirked as she sipped at the champagne she’d ordered before Lae’zel was supposed to even arrive. It was light and bubbly and yet smooth. There was no acidity to curl her lips, and the carbonation was more soothing than rough. It certainly tasted like it cost as much as a small weapon’s arsenal.
Which it did.
The cleric sighed.
She did, of course, wonder how Lae’zel was going to dress, though she also got the horrible feeling that-
Kachunk kachunk kachunk.
Shadowheart sighed.
She’d know that sound anywhere; she had only heard it every bloody day for hours for the last few weeks and months.
She flicked her gaze to the side, finding Lae’zel standing in front of the rather baffled host of the restaurant, wearing a full suit of fearsome, silver plate armor. Already Shadowheart could see heads in the venue starting to turn as a bloody alien walked in dressed like she was ready to battle an undead horde. Thankfully she didn’t have a Gods-be-damned seven-foot greatsword strapped to her back or Shadowheart might have been tempted to throw something at her. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected.
It was Lae’zel.
She already knew the woman’s justification and thought process without even needing to say a word. After all ‘What could possibly be more desirable than a warrior clad in masterwork armor? A dress of any kind would only limit my mobility, reduce my efficacy, dull the edges of my lethality. It offers no protection to speak of. Why would I ever blah blah blah’.
Shadowheart rolled her eyes, just miffed enough to not bother trying to catch her eye. If Lae’zel was really going to show up to their date dressed like that she could bloody well find Shadowheart herself.
“Ah! Good… evening… ma’am.” the host stammered, Shadowheart eavesdropping just a little bit. Just out of curiosity. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I seek my joy.”
Shadowheart sank down into the chair, her hand going to her face.
Oh Gods, she’s a blasted moron… she thought, despite her cheeks burning a bit.
“Your… joy?” the host asked, desperately trying to scrape together his usual decorum.
“My joy.” Lae’zel restated, “The one that slakes my hunger. A finer, more fearsome warrior cannot be found on this plane. Of that I am sure. She is-”
“Ah!” the host interrupted, thoughtfully, “You… have a date, then?”
“Yes.” Lae’zel’s voice was an ever-scathing blade dragged across someone’s throat as a warning, “A ‘date’.”
“And… does she- do they have a name?”
“Chk.” Lae’zel spat, causing Shadowheart to sink into her chair again and stare, exhausted, at the ceiling. ‘Chk’ing the restaurant staff was so very… Lae’zel. “As if I would give her name to you. Dangers lurk in this city. If she has half a brain, she will not have used her actual name or her actual name that is not her actual name.”
Shadowheart’s brow furrowed as she tried to decipher the sentence.
Then she crossed her arms, feeling a glow of embarrassment.
She hadn’t been paranoid enough to not give ‘Shadowheart’ as the reservation name. She didn’t expect bloody Bhaalists to be searching fancy restaurants for them. If it turned out the host was a bloody doppelganger, she’d feel like an utter fool, but somehow she doubted they’d bothered to infiltrate such a shallow layer of high society. Maybe the chef was a doppelganger, but even that seemed like a stretch.
“I see…” she could hear the host’s apprehension as he tried to deal with the strange, vague woman, “I’m afraid-”
“I am sure that you are. You have much to fear. More than you realize.” Shadowheart turned, eyes wide, in her date’s direction. What was she doing?! Just give him her bloody name and move on! “But lest you try to stop me, you needn’t fear me. For now.” Shadowheart squeezed the bridge of her nose. This was why Lae’zel was never allowed to do the talking for their party, except to Githyanki. “I am searching for a half-elf.”
There was a tangible pause; one that Shadowheart could practically feel.
“Right. And…” the host finally, cautiously queried, “What do they… look like?”
There was an even more tangible pause; one that Shadowheart wanted to use to strangle the bloody Gith to death.
“She has a large-” No. “-inefficient-” NO. “-and easily exploitable-” NONONO. “-nose.”
Shadowheart pursed her lips, staring off towards Lae’zel with such bitter hatred she felt like the building might catch on fire. Of all the ways to describe Shadowheart, that was it?! Her nose?! As if anybody would look at her and single out her blasted, bleeding, Godsdamn NOSE.
“Though,” Lae’zel growled, “such an uneconomical feature is hardly rare on this pebble.”
THEN WHY DID YOU LEAD WITH THAT, YOU STUPID, BLOODY GITH?!
“A half-elf with a… large… nose.” the host mumbled, glancing around the restaurant. Shadowheart was squirreled away partially behind a nearby wall and a large, potted plant, making her rather bloody difficult to spot from where the host and Lae’zel were. She was close enough, however, to easily overhear their conversation with minimal effort on her part, all while staying hidden.
“Does that truly not narrow it down enough?” Lae’zel asked, as if scorned. As if it weren’t her own fault that her descriptive skills were so bloody lacking. Shadowheart massaged her temple, attempting to subtly inspect her reflection in the reflective, crystalline champagne glass that she’d long-since drained.
“Is there anything else about her?” the host asked, trying to be as respectful as possible.
“There are many other aspects to her character, istik.” Lae’zel snapped, “Am I to list them all?”
“What’s her hair color?” the host tried, causing Shadowheart to almost audibly groan.
There was a tangible pause during which Shadowheart wondered how she ever ended up dating the bloody Gith.
“...Black.”
Shadowheart screamed in her brain.
This would take all bloody night. But at this point, she wondered if she even wanted the date. It would probably be just as enjoyable to let Lae’zel get tossed out and spend the gold on herself. She could honestly go for another bottle of wine or twelve at this point.
“A black-haired half-elf with a large nose…” the host just seemed confused, “That doesn’t sound familiar…”
“The color of her hair is irrelevant.” Lae’zel dismissed.
“Do you know of any other way to identify her?” the host asked gently, “What would you say she looks like?”
“She looks like the serenity of an empty battlefield.”
Yes, recite bloody POETRY, you stupid… Shadowheart poured herself another glass.
“I see.” the host lied.
“She is a sumptuous and tempting creature. Perhaps not ‘beautiful’ by my peoples’ standards,” Lae’zel expounded, Shadowheart massaging her brow as she sipped her champagne, “but her unquenchable spirit makes my skin flush and my neck sweat. I-”
“M-ma’am, I meant more…” the increasingly-desperate host interjected, “what does she look like? Her hairstyle?”
“Efficient.”
What does that mean?!
“Efficient?” the host repeated.
“Very nearly. It is practical, but there is a risk of her vision being impeded needlessly by her hair.” Lae’zel explained clinically.
“I… see.” the host lied, “And... her eyes?”
“She has both of them.”
“That’s… good. But what color are they?”
“What need have I to know?”
Yours are yellow, you stupid bloody-!
“Very well.” the host pushed forward bravely, “Age? Build, perhaps? Any distinguishing marks?” he tried, “You’re certain you cannot share her name? It would most likely expedite matters considerably.”
“You have not earned my trust, istik. As for her age,” she thought for a moment, “young.”
Well, that’s something, I suppose. Shadowheart sighed into her glass as she lifted it to her lips again. Despite herself, she was a bit curious how Lae’zel would describe her to others. Especially considering how bloody thick she was.
“Her body is softer and less well-built than my own. She is slightly shorter, that I must tilt her head up when I wish to taste her lips.” Shadowheart’s face sank into her hands again, “She is untrim. Despite the ravages of the road, she has maintained a softness that I find pleasurable to bite and-”
“Quite! Yes, so-!”
“I was speaking, istik. Interrupt me again and my dinner tonight may consist of your wagging tongue.”
Oh gods, she’s going to get arrested, isn’t she? Shadowheart thought, almost beginning to curl up into herself. Still, the threat seemed palpable enough to the host that he fell mute.
“She is scarred. It is, perhaps, one of her most enticing features. A sign of the warrior that lies beneath.”
“S… scars?” the host thought for a moment, “Scars… that does sound a bit familiar.”
Oh just bloody well leave me alone at this point. Shadowheart sighed mentally.
Honestly, sharing dinner with the Githyanki brute at this point sounded more like torture than a ‘fun, relaxing evening’. And to think, she’d been so excited to show off her dress to the stupid woman. It was almost laughable, almost pathetic, and entirely exhausting.
“There is a woman at this table just over here,” Shadowheart shrank a bit more out of sight, unable to tell if she had actually been properly identified, “that may be your date. I could ask, if you wish?”
“I am perfectly capable of checking for myself. Answer me this,” she heard the shifting of metal, which probably meant Lae’zel was getting unsettlingly close to the poor host, “does she make your hair stand on end? Does she make warmth pool in your belly, like hot lead? Does the very air around her seem to shine with the pale light of Selune’s Tears?” the cleric felt herself blush the slightest bit, “Does her voice sooth the deepest of wounds?” her ears burned just a bit more, “Does her presence alone radiate silver and warmth? As if you could spend an eternity by her side, sated only by the comfort of the air she breathes? Does she-”
“Oh Bloody Hells, would you just get over here, already?!” Shadowheart finally snapped, launching to her feet, slamming her hands on the table, and glaring around the corner. The instant Lae’zel made eye contact with her, her eyes widened and softened, filled with such adoration that Shadowheart immediately wanted to strangle her from how bloody unfair she was!
“My joy!” she breathed reverently, crossing the distance to her in a flash.
Shadowheart felt like slapping her.
Punching her.
Choking her.
Instead, she pulled her in for a quick, soft, loving kiss. It wasn’t so audacious that it would draw anyone else’s attention, or at least not for long. Lae’zel was certainly a curiosity in the decadent restaurant to be sure, but if Shadowheart caught anyone staring, her impenetrably protective glare quickly caused them to avert their eyes. She sat back down in her chair in a huff, allowing Lae’zel to sit across from her.
Not bothering to look at her date for a few seconds, she angrily turned her attention to the menu and began searching through it.
“That dress…” Lae’zel murmured.
“I know. Impractical, isn’t it?” Shadowheart sighed, glare flicking from the menu to her date, “I realize.”
“It suits you.” the Gith said, instead. It was a daring enough comment to make Shadowheart put her menu down, meeting Lae’zel’s adoring gaze with one of sweetly disguised venom.
“Does it?” she smiled, “Does it match my hair color? The one you can’t be bothered to remember? Or does it really bring out the color of my eyes,” she raised a finger, “that you also can’t be bothered to remember?”
“I…” Lae’zel hesitated for just a moment, “I find it difficult to remember the specifics of your face.” she admitted, “I merely remember how you make me feel. I remember how you look in my heart.”
“Poetic.” she smiled thinly, “But you’re not sweet-talking your way out of this.”
“You do not wish to hear the truth?”
“No.” Shadowheart slapped the question away.
“You,” Lae’zel’s voice dropped, instantly telling Shadowheart she was likely about to be incredibly unfair, “are the fire in my soul. My will to battle. The thunder at my back, and the light in my sky. The sight of you is a balm to my very being. You are more than the source of my joy.” Shadowheart, despite herself, met Lae’zel’s eyes, which were as soft and pleading as they were steel-hard and resolute, “you are my joy.”
Shadowheart pursed her lips.
Then growled out a sigh.
“I told you I didn’t want to hear the bloody truth,” Shadowheart flipped open the menu again, reading it huffily, “because now I just have to forgive you, don’t I?” she grumbled, “And I was really enjoying being cross with you.”
“If you would prefer,” Lae’zel gently took one of her hands and kissed it softly, “I could earn my forgiveness.”
“Has Gale been teaching you how to flirt?” Shadowheart shot her a suspicious look from over the menu.
“I do not ‘flirt’.” Lae’zel corrected, “I speak from the heart. Now,” she stroked the back of her hand with her thumb, “shall I earn your forgiveness properly?”
Shadowheart sighed, then smiled at her. It was sweet, gentle, and serene: a smile she didn’t even know she had until Lae’zel helped her turn her back to the darkness once and for all. “After our date,” she flipped her hand over just as Lae’zel was leaning in for another kiss, managing to cup the warrior’s chin and stroke it softly, “you can spend all night earning my forgiveness. How does that sound?”
“Like…” Lae’zel kissed her palm reverently, “paradise, my joy.”