Who: Isabela & Lina What: Making Hawke's wedding ring, while the pirate and sorceress become nostalgic about the black market When: Sometime last week Where: The Firestarter Fortress (Lina & Pete's place) Rating/Warning: Some talk of their past professions, but nothing terrible Status: Complete!
Today was already a good day - after chatting with Broody the Magical Fister, Isabela picked up two piping hot drinks with the very best dick-themed foam art this side of the county (hers was a mocha latte, Lina’s was a very delicious hot chocolate because apparently the caffeine was bad for expectant mums, see, Bela paid attention) and headed over to the mostly-new, fireproof abode with intent to work on an illusive wedding ring. Well, technically, the magic Isabela didn’t have would be doing the work - but the least she could do was bring something tasty to sip on, and she’d also booked appointments for them at a place that featured prenatal massages. They were both going to get Swedish massages, but it helped to have someone who knew what they were doing - from what the heavily accented and very helpful lady told her, the Swedish type was best for the circulatory changes that came about because of all those hormones during pregnancy. Not to mention it would just feel bloody amazing, Bela assumed, especially when lately your organs were being kicked, your rib cage rattled, and your back constantly sore.
She wasn’t certain she ever wanted to go through it, but crossing the marriage hurdle would have to occur first. Talk of spawning could wait...three, maybe four, or one-hundred years.
The sleek convertible screeched to a stop in front of the house, nary a speeding ticket obtained and nary a drop of ambrosia spilled, and once she’d chucked her sunglasses into her purse she went and knocked on the door. This was going to be lovely - no doubts about a dragon scale ring being absolutely perfect for Hawke, none at all. Isabela just knew he’d love it.
Oh, geez. Lina would have had to been deaf to miss that music of tire against asphalt - actually, she remembered hearing some chatter from the hysterical night of crib construction about how Hawke was petrified by a certain busty pirate’s driving abilities? Guess his concerns weren’t that unfounded, because when she opened the door, arm curled beneath that rounded belly, she was greeted with the lovely aroma of burnt rubber.
“Should I even ask how many speeding tickets you’ve gotten under your belt?” she smirked, ruby eyes gleaming in amusement. Thirty two weeks, and ready to pop whenever - the fiery hair was long with loose curls, and the ankle-length jersey dress was both comfy and flattering to the curvy figure. “Come in, and don’t mind the cat.”
Everything required for the process of wedding ring enhancement and creation was displayed on the coffee table. A crystal ball the size of a child’s fist, parchment of varying sizes with varying symbols (some of them glowed, the dim light once compared to an elf maiden’s skin in her world), a couple glass vials of liquid, some other pieces and things. Then, on the sofa’s armrest, was the calico Bela was warned about. Sleepy eyed, but purring up a storm for no apparent reason and kneading against the upholstery, ready for a lap.
She’d settle for one without balls for this evening.
“Tickets? None at all, actually! I’ve got skills.” Isabela had met a few elves, but she was sure a maiden’s skin didn’t really glow and blush like a wedding night - interesting setup, this whole thing, and she stepped into the house with an oooooh before handing over the hot chocolate. It was a good day for it, wasn’t it always? “Oh, and here, I brought you something - it’s sweet and always makes life better, especially when foam dicks are involved even if it’s kind of flaccid by now,” the pirate grinned. Then she went to say hello to the cat - who was quite cute, and obviously looking for a lap.
Because as soon as Bela sat down, Guess jumped right to her. Well then. How was that for enthusiasm? She wasn’t even sure if she liked cats, but they seemed alright - less drooly and less messy, when compared to dogs. Sturdy pussy though; it made Isabela laugh, because really, this kitty was fat. Still cute. Guess could stay in her lap for the time being, and Dog would probably get jealous later.
“Well! This ought to be interesting.”
In a velvet satchel were the scales, harvested from their men’s adventure at the park (with the crater), and she emptied them on the long piece of parchment, also the one that had that glowy tint - virgin elf shine, or the equivalent of. It’d been separated from the skin underneath, cleaned, dried, stored for whatever the fuck use. In her world scales this hard could be amped up and turned into armor. The swordsman she traveled with had something like that, they were really nifty crafting tools if used right.
Lina approved greatly. It had an iridescent gleam to it under the light.
First order of business before all of this started was to, uh, do the motions of kneeling on the ground. Awkward with a belly in the way, but she got there, and sipped that hot chocolate gratefully. “Foam penis beverage, approved? Filmy foam on the top, yeaaah, nice touch,” she snickered. “You getting excited though, for the whole eloping?”
Vegas. She’d been there once or twice throughout her travels of a felon-in-hiding, though to be fair she didn’t remember much - back then she was sort of borderlining into the realm of alcoholism, but she was sure the two of them would party hardy. Do things their way, just like couples should. If they wanted to express their love with an ordained Elvis, gambling and drinking, then do it.
Funnily enough, Isabela actually was getting excited. She grinned, a flash of those pearly teeth, and sipped her darkly brewed ambrosia (usually she didn’t put much milk in it, but when Fenris and naughtiness were involved then she was all for slapping on enough foam to create beautiful works of dick art). “I am,” she confirmed. “The thing is, I don’t even think much will change. I mean, besides living arrangements but...I feel like we’ve already been through it all together, probably because of the dreams.”
They’d been to hell and back there, slogging through shit and mud pretty much every day - going here and there, to and fro, on missions and favours for Maker even knew who. Throughout all that, a family had been built - and she’d fallen for that bearded immigrant, she’d seen him through everything from getting trapped in the Deep Roads to losing his mother because of an insane blood mage. Now they were on the brink of a war, and she’d continue to stand by him.
“My last wedding was a right mess anyway,” Bela rolled her eyes, patting Guess’s fur. She really wasn’t great with animals but she tried. “It wasn’t even my choice but this one is, so, I’m decidedly happier about it.” In addition to that, she was completely ready - no more running, and if she decided to sail off into the sunset she was going to take Hawke with her.
Now that she was all nice and comfy, Lina began the motions of preparation as she listened - a wave of her hand trigger the crystal ball and it spun, the pentagram engraved in it lit, setting the energies for this ‘space.’ “Marriage is a legal binding contract we give sentimental meaning to, nothing should change when you’re already committed to wanting to see his beardy face every time you wake up in the morning,” she giggled. Through sickness and health, annoying habits and exasperating flaws, through the good times and bad, the terrible ways a loved relative can be murdered and temporary suctions into the void. “I had no idea you were...married, though? Before? Sounds like a picnic.”
‘No choice.’ That’s interesting. Arranged marriages were a thing in the past and needed to stay there, but the grim truth was it still existed, though the circumstances caught her curiosity. Squeaky clean backgrounds didn’t exist for these ladies - and in that sense, she could relate.
Bunching up the material in her hands, an air spell was chanted and the pieces of hide crumbled into a shower of shimmery dust, sifted between her fingers. Deconstruct, imbue, then reconstruct into the desired form was the formula.
“One of the stipulations of the contract is that he can’t shave the beard,” the pirate queen teased. Aw, the cat in Bela’s lap really was kind of cute - even if she was losing feeling in her legs. But Guess was purring quite contentedly as she received petting from a human that she’d dubbed worthy enough to rub her scent all over, and thus mark as hers too - conquering the world, one person at a time. That’s what cats did.
And she supposed that she didn’t mind speaking of her former marriage - it was sort of good to get it all out, in a way. “My mum arranged it,” Isabela explained. “She’s very traditional when it comes to Hindu culture and religion. So her eldest, that’s me, was bought for a price - and it definitely involved bovine. But the fellow wasn’t even very useful, though he taught me a few things about the black market trade before he was killed. Ooh, is that the whole...building it back up again process?” she tacked on there, leaning forward a little to watch what Lina did with what looked like fairy dust. It glittered, anyway!
Guess belonged on laps, she really did - if there were balls on it, even better, but at the moment she was too terrified of the thing that kicked inside her human’s stomach to even get snuggly with Lina. Bela’s was safe and unblocked by a fat baby oven. That, and she probably smelled Dog too - and was indirectly challenging the mutt. Dibs, you panting beast.
But, the fuck? A legitimately arranged marriage due to culture. There was a face she made, nose scrunch included, because there were questions begging to be voiced on the tip of her tongue (was he nice? Was he abusive? How did he die?). The last thing she wanted to do was reopen any possible old wounds while they were focusing on this marriage. One chosen for herself, and it was worth celebrating rather than reminiscing on how she was once considered property to be sold.
“Yep, it’s one way to do it - it makes it easy when you’ve got things to mix in it, and then when you re-shape it.” All of the stuff came when her cape carried over. The pockets in it were enchanted to hold many things, keep it light, and have it lay flat. It was something she was planning to do with that goddamn diaper bag, because after doing a test run of loading all the possible things they’d need, it was surprisingly heavy. But anyway. “I’m going to guess his ring finger is about the size of Pete’s? If it ends up too big or too small, bring it back and I’ll adjust it.”
Another sheet of paper snatched up. It was smaller, designed with a block symbol, lines and sigils - a spell written in the artistic language of sorcery, in a way - and she set it over the scales turned dust. It was the amplification spell; it’d also help recharge those magical batteries quickly. A simple fire incantation was uttered under her breath and the parchment ignited, briefly, its ashes infused in the pile. “What’d you go into the black market business with, anyway? I was guns, and explosives.”
What? There was good cash to be made on the black market, and there was always a certain kind of exciting rush when it came to that kind of business. It didn’t hurt to reminisce over that.
“Books, actually,” Isabela responded, though certainly guns and explosives were much more fiery. The pirate nature she had about her, lawless and ruthless, meant to be sailing the high seas, would delight in such practises - the Siren’s Call had a few good canons, really. She missed that beauty, and she doubted she’d ever find something to replace her. But Bela was slowly coming to realise that, hell, it didn’t even matter that much in the scheme of things. So she had a ship, big bloody deal? Having people was much better. “My ex-husband was mostly gold because out of India, you can make a racket with that. The trade of it is banned. But after he met the Maker I moved to London and expanded to something else entirely - at first I was amazed how much collectors would pay for rare, out-of-print editions but then once I got used to it I was completely fine with exploiting it.”
Not something she was proud of now, though - especially not after the debacle with the damned relic. But she at least knew Lina wouldn’t judge her for it, the way someone else would.
Anyway, yes, the fingers of her beloved. “Should be about the same size as his boyfriend,” Bela stated cheerily. “They’re a trip, aren’t they? Was he what made you decide to lay the black market dealings to rest?”
“Huh,” Lina sipped her beverage thoughtfully, though her eyes blinked in surprise. Top hottest requests in that shady line of ‘retail’ tended to be organs, exotic pets (odd, but true), drugs, cosmetic surgery (gotta get that illegal boobjob done), and what every organized crime group needed - weapons. It meant a lot of competition, but Shabranigdo’s line was top-notch with ghost equipment. Meaning it couldn’t be traced. “I would have never stopped to think about the demand for books. That’s actually smart - your competition was probably non-existent, and I’d imagine a lot of obsessed collectors dishing out a pretty penny for a one of a kind text.”
To the next step, which was picking up that vial of liquid. A mix of a couple things but the base of it was water from the Demon Sea, and she sprinkled some over their project. “Pete’s what motivated me to stay out of it, but I quit on my own. Years ago. Morals got in the way, I couldn’t really justify the pay for all the things that were going on.” Except no one just quit Shabranigdo unless they were killed. Jokes on on that dead fucker. “And the broody Brit helped me realize I was more than just the reputation of destruction I made for myself. Sometimes you need that nudge.”
A sort-of-funny parallel in her dreams. Her reputation was so notorious she had a lot of ridiculous rumors (some said she was 300-year-old witch that sold her soul to the monster race, but the one where dragons were afraid of her was sadly true), but she’d done some good in that life too. It wasn’t anything people heard about because as it turns out, when the world was on the verge of being flushed down the shitter, only select groups knew about it and handled it. The public had no damn clue, therefore she was still feared or wanted for arrest for all the collateral damage that happened trying to do the right thing (and sometimes explosions just happened?).
“Thousands and millions of pounds,” Isabela confirmed. Books vanished into the black market all the time, entire libraries dedicated to rare titles looted - and that particular hemisphere was exclusively ruled by her for awhile, she was their queen. The tricks of the trade were long-buried secrets, things that she wouldn’t pass on to just anyone. But she’d given up her ‘job,’ so to speak, and things would have to carry on without her in that shady underworld. “I could babble for hours about how obsessed people get with the books they want - for instance, the Dr. Seuss nutters? That’s just a small sect.” But she’d sold quite a few first editions of those infamous rhymes - one fish, blue fish, red fish, far too many dollar signs. It had worked for her at the time, and her offshore accounts proved it.
Anyway, that was a whole chapter of her personal story that had been closed. It could also be just as dangerous as the organ and drug underworlds, so it was perhaps best she get away from it all.
“I suppose the nudges are needed sometimes,” she added thoughtfully, giving Guess a scratch on her head. “Nice to have someone who believes in you enough, to see the other parts that you try to hide.” Those vulnerable, squishy parts.
A combination of earth-and-water incantations were chanted quickly, a shimmer and glow of energies beginning to slowly mold the powder - they began reforming back to their scaley origins. For now they were softer, a little more flexible and easier to manipulate, which she then began to take advantage of to form a ring. Magical dragon clay, if you will. The aforementioned spells helped with its current state. “Dr. Seuss,” Lina snickered, those scarlet eyes flickering at Bela in amusement. “That’s probably one of the cleaner texts you’ve sold, huh?” Oh, there wasn’t any doubt this one probably once had an entire arsenal of rare porny kind of books - sex, even in its written form, must still sell for a lot depending on who wrote it.
Well, minus the whole 50 Shades of Rapey Things book, anyway.
Soon their creation started to look what it was intended to look like. An actual piece of jewelry, smoothed after the infusion of scales and amplification enchantment, and the final touch was the heating brought by another spell of file that engulfed it, followed by another one of the earth that hardened it, and…voila.
“Annnnd there you go - careful, it’s still a little hot?” Something for that someone who gave her those necessary nudges sometimes, because it was true. Those pokes and prods into some kind of direction you never thought was possible definitely needed. A thing that went both ways. “I promise it won’t backfire and blow up in his face.”
Dr. Seuss really was clean, in comparison. It made Isabela laugh. “I’ve sold some dirtiness over the years, definitely. Lesbian porn especially,” she rolled her eyes - considering how ‘taboo’ it was, back in ye olden days (and in some parts of the world here too), those rare and extremely out-of-print smut novels about sexual awakenings and drinking the dew of feminine flowers or whatever else were gems that passed between hot hands. Greedy historians appreciated the texts, but she was convinced that some far-too-rich people were just straight up pervs.
But speaking of hotness. She leaned in to ooh and ahhh at the finished product, which practically had wisps of magic radiating from those scales. It was impressive, and she really couldn’t wait for Hawke to see it. “He’s going to love this, thank you,” Bela grinned brightly, and she couldn’t help herself - she touched the ring, being careful as instructed, but the scorching heat of it felt accomplished in a sense. Of course it was too big for her finger, so she held it in her palm.
“Are you sure I can’t do anything else to repay you? I already booked us massage appointments.”
Hopefully it fit. Hawke was too much of a burly bear to have dainty finger widths anyway, but hey, she was glad to help. Pete’s was also of a dragon variety (hers too, with the design), a metal that was said to be formed by the skins, nails and blood of the reigning (and, well, technically sorta deceased-but-living-in-her-sister) dragon deity of her dreamworld. A super rare material, known best for its magical properties - and to think she’d gotten it originally from raiding a bandit camp.
Lina shook her head with a grin, one hand on her belly - as if it’d make the spawn get the hell out of her ribs, ow - and the other with the hot chocolate she was still sipping on. “Wedding present, Isabela, that’s some of the perks you get even if you elope. Good luck in Vegas, and don’t get pregnant.”
Otherwise she’d be needing help getting off the ground right now, like she was going to need in a couple minutes.
“Oh, Maker, no,” Bela shuddered at the idea of getting pregnant during her and Hawke’s Wedding Extravaganza. Well, she wasn’t sure how extravagant it would be - probably just filled with alcohol and debauchery, and then somewhere within all that mess the whole ‘I do’ thing would happen. “I’m still uncertain if I want one. I figure I’ll practise on yours for a little while, maybe change a nappy or two until I get the hang of it.”
Bleh. A pirate’s life was not a clean life by any means (for example, she willingly chose to keep her room at the sullied Hanged Man despite how she could have shacked up with her wealthy Champion boyfriend) yet there was just something about baby poop. It took a bit of a steely stomach to deal with.
Lots of dragons happening here too, she thought as she examined the ring - but perhaps it was something that bound them all together? Kind of sweet, actually, if you considered it. She was grateful either way.