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BG3: more Worst OT3 fic
I decided I didn't want to just stick to Larissa's POV. So, here's a bit of Gaila:
Gaila half-fell out of the rune into open air and looked up as she got to her feet. Two half-elven women in chain mail blinked at her.
“Oof,” Gaila said, wincing. She dusted off her robes and tossed her hair back where it belonged. Her earrings jangled as she moved her head, so at least those were fine, too.
In a quick moment, she took in her rescuers. Clerics, hopefully—though very obviously of different deities, if so.
One of them, the shorter and more disheveled of the two, stood in front, eyeing Gaila with evident surprise. The second hung back, her expression neutral. Gaila herself was mostly startled that she didn’t recognize the symbols on the second woman’s armor, incorporating both swirls and pointed ends, along with dark stones set into her chest, shoulders, and a silvery hair piece. The stones didn’t appear arcane at all, yet absorbed the light near them in a peculiar way. A trick of the eye, perhaps. No doubt some iconography of a lesser deity than Gaila had ever troubled herself over.
At the thought—well, she repressed the thought. No point in dwelling just now.
Gaila smiled at the first woman, who seemed to be the leader. She was less distinctive, to be sure, apart from rumpled auburn hair which gave a strong impression that she’d bathed without combing it for several days in a row. She wore ordinary mail and no ornaments. Nevertheless, she looked vaguely familiar.
“Hello,” said Gaila sheepishly, trying to recall where she’d seen her before. “I’m Gaila of Waterdeep.”
Gaila half-fell out of the rune into open air and looked up as she got to her feet. Two half-elven women in chain mail blinked at her.
“Oof,” Gaila said, wincing. She dusted off her robes and tossed her hair back where it belonged. Her earrings jangled as she moved her head, so at least those were fine, too.
In a quick moment, she took in her rescuers. Clerics, hopefully—though very obviously of different deities, if so.
One of them, the shorter and more disheveled of the two, stood in front, eyeing Gaila with evident surprise. The second hung back, her expression neutral. Gaila herself was mostly startled that she didn’t recognize the symbols on the second woman’s armor, incorporating both swirls and pointed ends, along with dark stones set into her chest, shoulders, and a silvery hair piece. The stones didn’t appear arcane at all, yet absorbed the light near them in a peculiar way. A trick of the eye, perhaps. No doubt some iconography of a lesser deity than Gaila had ever troubled herself over.
At the thought—well, she repressed the thought. No point in dwelling just now.
Gaila smiled at the first woman, who seemed to be the leader. She was less distinctive, to be sure, apart from rumpled auburn hair which gave a strong impression that she’d bathed without combing it for several days in a row. She wore ordinary mail and no ornaments. Nevertheless, she looked vaguely familiar.
“Hello,” said Gaila sheepishly, trying to recall where she’d seen her before. “I’m Gaila of Waterdeep.”