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December 2023 Drabble #2
🕑 Added 2023-12-12 07:16:00 +0000 UTCHalsin/? – voyeurism/exhibitionism – Halsin finds himself accosted in the middle of the night during a little get-together around the campfire. The question is... by whom?
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Halsin watches his companion’s faces as he sits down on one of the stumps near the fire. They all look tired but not enough so to actually go to bed. There is a restless energy about them all that he feels as well… though he supposes his might be of a different kind.
The bard takes out his lute and begins to pluck a few strings, pausing briefly to see whether any of the others might have qualms about his playing – but continues once the others don’t make a move to stop him.
Halsin can feel the energy in the camp shift slightly, becoming more upbeat with the notes of the bard’s lute. He shifts a little further back on the stump, eyes moving toward the edge of the forest. He can feel Mother Nature like a caress on his skin even now.
Or mayhaps it is the bard’s song. The others begin to shift as well, their cheeks warming up. Halsin can taste their eagerness in the air, though other than Karlach and Astarion, the others seem too shy to do anything about it.
The other two are pulling some of the attention to them as they start to get out wine and food.
Halsin leans forward with interest. Now festivities he can certainly get behind and Astarion and Karlach make for very fine hosts as they both have quite charming personalities in Halsin’s opinion – but he can not stand from his perch as he feels a tickling touch at the small of his back just between the hem of his shirt and the edge of his pants.
A shiver runs through his body, the hairs along his arms standing at attention as he feels a cheeky little vine starting to push into the back of his seat.
Is it… Mother Nature? Or is it one of his companions? It feels odd through the enchanted music that the bard is playing and he can’t quite make up his mind, eyes sliding from one companion to the other while the little vine slips between his hairy cheeks and creeps towards his hole.
Shadowheart leans toward him, offering him a cup of wine which he takes after a second. She throws him an odd look but does not comment on the way his movements are a little jerky.
She might put it on his long nights of incarceration.
Or maybe she knows about the cheeky little vine petting his entrance and playing just with the thought of entering him right then and there?
Oh, the uncertainty is quite tantalizing indeed.
