[ bhaalspawn, then, a different kettle of fish. the divine in their blood and bones, flesh and souls, capable of greater terrors than the chosen of any other god. envy curls, vice-like, around his heart. if his goddess had wanted greatness for him — had desired eternity for her beloved — he would not be here, blood spattered across his stomach, staining the tear in his robes.

her toothy smile sends his brows higher. approving or threatening? perhaps both. his stomach flips, but he does not look away. ]

Her greatest failure, perhaps. [ bitter in his mouth. none have ever called his rebellion against mystra a success, thinking him a lovesick fool or a power-hungry apostate. few of his former colleagues have reached out, since he disappeared. still, he isn’t so ashamed as to reject the recognition, rare as it is. and she isn’t wrong, not entirely, when he accomplished the impossible. ] Though I suppose that’s a singular achievement, in and of itself.

[ a sudden thought. guileless, gale gestures between them, as if he might solidify their tenuous connection. ]

He taught you different. [ from his learnings at the foot of mystra’s celestial throne, knees bent and eyes worshipful. ] Did He name you?