14 Works by flamemittens
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"Oh, and there is one more thing" he says suddenly, as if he has just thought of it. "It is a masquerade after all, and we must adhere to convention, as much as you might abhor it in this case." He dispenses with his glass, then indicates to her that she should follow him.
He leads her through to the adjoining bedchamber, and stops at a table by the large mirror. It's deliciously warm here too, thanks to the second smaller fire, burning in its grate. The rug beneath her feet feels plush and she pushes away a sudden desire to remove her shoes and feel its soft, thick fibers between her toes.
"I" he says, and the pride, the delight is thick on his voice, "have taken the liberty of making our masks."
Morgayne and Enver prepare to attend his masquerade party.
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There are sounds too, as well as words; laughter, the clink of a glass, the periodic snap of a lighter, the chime of her Domin's data-slate. Boots removed and dropped to the floor, the rustle of fabric as they adjust their positions on the large chaise that Kibellah knows they will be sitting on.
And then there are less words, and more sounds, sounds that tell her it is time to move further away and give them their privacy.
That is the path she would normally take.
Tonight, however, she finds her curiosity choosing another.
Kibellah watches Nora von Valancius and Jae Heydari together.Series
- Part 3 of Some Dreams You Never Wake Up From
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"You have been busy" she says at last, her small smile returning.
"Am I not always?"
"You like to think that you are" she retorts.
He chuckles to mask the clench of his jaw, the briefest flash of amused irritation. "I gave it a name" he says next.
"Oh? Do tell."
Enver gives Vivette his finest gift.
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Pulling the Threads by flamemittens
Fandoms: Warhammer 40.000: Rogue Trader (Video Game)
10 Jul 2025
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It really is a very fine coat indeed.
And it is currently being worn by an otherwise bare-skinned Jae Heydari.
She’s pulled it from the back of a chair and draped it over herself, and now stands in front of the large mirror on one side of the bedroom. Her gleeful smile widens as she admires her reflection. She pulls the wide collar up against her throat, turns this way and that to take herself in. What little light there is catches on the silver of her neck implant and the gold embellishments on the fabric as she moves, and the fingers of her metal hand click over the buttons and other metal adornments.
It suits her, Nora thinks, from her position on the bed.
Jae tries on Nora's newly tailored Lord Captain's coat.
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- Part 2 of Some Dreams You Never Wake Up From
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However new this…friendship—yes, she thinks that is the right descriptor, or at least it will do for now—of theirs is, it is one that gives Nora more than she cares to admit. A thread back to the past, a low lumen light washing over a memory. A space between filled, for a time at least.
She watches as Jae brings the lho stick elegantly balanced between her index and middle fingers to her lips, and takes a long drag.
“Tell me something about Efreet” Nora says, to dispel whatever she is feeling, to not have to follow it back to the source.
Nora von Valancius and Jae Heydari spend an evening together.
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- Part 1 of Some Dreams You Never Wake Up From
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“I wonder what I would find were I to take you apart” he says. He holds out a small cog, and she runs her fingers over the teeth of it.
“Perhaps” he continues, “I’d find the answers you won’t give me.”
She looks at her reflection in the metal, and her chest aches.
Morgayne spends time with Enver, and struggles with the weight of wanting things.
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She feels the want roll over her like a wave as she watches him pause in the doorway, gauntleted fingers tip-tapping on the frame in a staccato of thought. He glances back to the room. After a moment more he sighs and leaves—to retire to bed, she supposes.
She could follow him. Follow him up to his bedchamber, peel everything off, all of it, all of her, and what was left would slip between the sheets to feel the warmth of him. He would smile, eyes soft and dark, and welcome her with the flat of his tongue and the press of his clever fingers. She can see it all in her mind, map out how it would go. Her pulse quickens, and an ache settles between her legs like a weight.
Morgayne resists, and then gives in, and then tries to find somewhere in the middle.
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Saying Something Stupid Like I Love You by flamemittens for Defira
Fandoms: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
30 Jan 2025
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A little way ahead, she can see Gale already waiting; he’s half-leaning, half-sat against a low wall, leather satchel at his side, an open book in hand. She feels it, then, the slow-spreading bloom of warmth in her chest at the sight of him.
She thinks of slowing her pace. An attempt to suspend or hold back the march of time as she indulges in a brief moment of observation to remind herself, once again, that this is real, he’s real—but she calls out to him before she can stop herself.
A little slice of post-canon life in Waterdeep for Gale and Rhyme.
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“I’m perfectly fine where I am, Enver.”
“Nonsense. Come.”
She shrugs, but he has an idea. Knows how to persuade her.
“What if I give you that drawing lesson we’ve talked about before, hmm? Perhaps now is the time.”
“I can’t see what use that would be” she says, shifting in her seat. Her words say she is uninterested, but her body language and demeanor tell him otherwise. He has long since learnt to look in the spaces between.
Enver persuades Morgayne to accept a drawing lesson, and they talk about tattooing each other.
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“I have something for you” he declares a few minutes later as she finally starts to settle herself, eases her grip on the iron railings as he stands close beside her, unafraid. She glances down as he pulls out a box and opens it to reveal a fine gold necklace with a rich green gem set into the centrepiece. The box seems small for what it contains.
“Before you start grousing” —he says firmly— “I would ask you to at least accept this. A token of friendship, if you will. You are allowed to have nice things, you know.”
The evolution of the relationship between Morgayne and Enver Gortash, framed around the many gifts, material and otherwise, he has given her over the years.
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They do this at least once every couple of tendays, as their schedules allow. Gortash sets Morgayne a task and, when she is in the mood to accept, the rest of the evening plays out in a manner that is beneficial to them both, in different ways. He gets a problem or two taken care of and to watch her work, and she gets to savor the execution of a challenging kill. Not that she needs his assistance to soak her blade in blood, of course.
Afterwards, they discuss it and other things as the mood takes them, typically over a glass or two of wine.
Lately, it has been one of his favourite ways to relax.
Gortash and Morgayne spend an evening relaxing in their own unique way. It goes a little awry, but they recover it.
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He has long known that his gifts to her have to be useful, purposeful. In service to her calling. To that end, he has two things for her, but only aims to present the first today. He could show her his plans and diagrams for it first but finds himself rather keen to cut to the chase.
He picks up the bundle of leather and metal, smooth and cool, and approaches her where she stands. She turns and examines the offering in his hands, the light in her eyes betraying her interest.
“What’s this?”
Enver Gortash has a hand-crafted gift for the Dark Urge.
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Ketheric sits in a high-backed chair at the head of the table, papers spread out in front of him, raw disdain rolling off him in almost visible waves. Gortash, feeling the onset of a headache—pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to massage it into submission—stands at the other end, and Morgayne sits in between them. Their usual configuration.
A brief look into a meeting of the Chosen of the Dead Three at Moonrise Towers. And a little afterward.
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“Lord Gortash" she blurts out, cutting across him. "Who were we to each other? Really?”
He seems to wince, for some reason, at her use of his formal title. After a brief silence, he smiles, and finally offers his answer.
“I meant what I said in the audience hall. You can use that as a reference if you wish.”
She frowns. “As strange as it may seem, that does not make things much clearer. I only have more questions.”
“Well then. Allow me to fill in some more of the specifics for you, in a way that leaves no room for interpretation.”
The Dark Urge and Enver Gortash reunite during the events of Act 3.
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