Chapter Text
A servant came to refill the bottle of water then moved through the other cells doing the same, and tidying the ones that were empty. Xotchtil briefly considered using it to unlock the door but through its eyes the guard seemed too watchful. They certainly wouldn’t get far–the guard was not manipulable. They did catch a flash of memory from the servant:
He broke the seal of the wine in front of his matron, poured it out into a glass and drank a small sip before offering her the cup. She swirled it in the glass under her nose, drank some, then offered the bottle and another glass to her guest.
The younger Drow Lady asked,“And where is this famous son of yours Matron?”
His matron nodded to him,“go and find where Castre has wandered off to.”
Before he could approach the doors, they flew open. ‘Castre’ swept into the room dragging her brother behind her,“Tazennin Blundyth has graced us all with his presence Ladies!”
‘Tazennin’ was dressed casually in a silk robe that wasn’t fully fastened and half of his dozen or so braids were undone. He was clutching the robe closed and his eyes were narrow with apprehension.
“Mother! What’s got you awake at this late hour?”
Matron Blundyth did, in fact, look tired. Perhaps she had even dozed off in the past few seconds. She sat up and gestured to the lady beside her,“This is Lady–sorry–Matron Malthra. You’ve heard about the unfortunate situation with her mother?”
Tazennin’s narrow eyes flew wide and he froze. His head barely perceptibly tilted in deference,“…Matron.”
Matron Selca gestured to a chair on the end of the table closest to her and her guest,“…sit.”
Tazennin carefully passed between his mother and… Rhea …who had been facing the wall behind and off to the side of her mother and carefully avoiding eye contact. Noime was in the opposite corner, trying and failing to look more interested in her book than the conversation. Tazennin settled into the chair, still holding his robe closed. His mother offered him the bottle of wine and a glass. He took it and poured some, nodding and weakly smiling, but didn’t drink.
“Don’t be a drone about it we’ve all drank from the same bottle already.”
He did as he was told. The young matron eyed him appraisingly and even lifted the sleeve of his robe a little. The servant boy thought he even saw his lips pale slightly.
“You weren’t kidding. I think I will have him. How much?”
Selca glanced around with an unusual sharpness then quickly gestured at her daughters and the servant boy"–you four! Out."
Xotchtil gathered a vague sense of familiarity (all of this was normal) out of the servant boy before he wandered too far away.
Facedown in the desert again.
No we’re still in the cell together you’re dreaming but–
–but she couldn’t accept that either. A piece of sinew snapped free from her back and her hand slapped it into the dirt. The chunk of translucent wing oozed black from it’s veins.
Xotchtil was awake this time, but it wasn’t doing any more good than it ever had. They couldn’t ground her out into the present but even if they’d had substances or resonance stones they wouldn’t have worked either. And they’d never been able to send her into a fantasy, which had been their go-to for decades. They didn’t move and risk waking her because that seemed like a great way to get electrocuted. She moaned and twitched on the pile of blankets, facedown as in her dream, one leg still thrown over their lap.
Just look up, they pleaded, at the sky, or the clouds! That’s where you belong, right? What’s it like to be a Cloud?
Annoyance from her. She wasn’t a cloud, clouds are made of water. Annoyance was at least a small break from the suffering.
Then what are you?
The southern wind; hot, humid, and full of static. The summer thunderstorm (not the cloud! the storm). He–humans–had a name for the southern wind, but she could never remember what it was. Earth called her the sound of racing through a canyon and water and fire had similarly sensible names. Other winds called her various things as their pockets of heat and cold whipped and scraped against each other.
Ah. Of course. And what do you like to rain–sorry. What do you like to strike with that lightning little thunderstorm?
“I don’t like to do anything” her dry throat croaked,“I just do.”
They looked over to see her eyes half open.
I hate to be the one to tell you, but that body you’re in likes and dislikes a great many things.
She sighed deeply,“It’s exhausting.”
Every once in a while Xotchtil was able to catch a thought from the guard, but they were very few and far between.
“Honestly, Rhea, we’re all just glad you didn’t eat them. We probably wouldn’t all fit in this room if you’d gotten any bigger.” As she spoke, Castre jammed a pinky into the ceremonial wine font and slurped it off loudly. Noime visibly fought the urge to strangle Castre. Matron Selca Blundyth failed to notice most or all of the interaction.
Again, a distinct sensation of familiarity.
At some point Xotchtil awoke laying on their side and found her face smashed into their mass of tentacles like a pillow. It occurred to them again that her face was too close for comfort, but her sleep was dreamless, for once. They didn’t move.
Rhea stopped by to see them a second time. She was as impossible to read as the first time they’d met. It didn’t seem to be psionic in nature, so they suspected it was training of some kind. They remembered hearing the drow worshipped some deity that valued force of will, so it wouldn’t be surprising. Xotchtil suspected she’d been the one to capture them outside the cavern, but there wasn’t any way to be sure, between the poison, the hunger, and what was probably several blows to the head.
“What were you doing in myconid territory?”
Passing through.
Rhea almost laughed,“What’re you a perfume merchant? Illithids don’t just ‘pass through.’ Try again.”
Almost dying? I’m not sure what you want to hear.
“The truth would be nice.”
The truth was complicated. Well, the consequences were complicated. “We were running” sounded weak. “We had nowhere else to go” sounded like begging. They were desperately searching for something close enough to the truth to be believable that didn’t sound… well. desperate! It was a little hard to do that from inside of a cell. They looked down at the sylph, leaning on their shoulder, but facing opposite, back towards the wall. They supposed they hadn’t given her enough credit.
I didn’t know it was myconid territory.
“They’ve been there for years. Where have you been?”
Illithid communities can be… insular.
“I just don’t get it. Ch’chitl is the only illithid territory near here but that’s in completely the wrong direction. It’s not even weird that you would pass through coming from that direction. Eryndlyn could’ve been quite comfortable for you if you were honest about it.”
Would you believe we got lost?
“That’s the other thing. What was so important about her that you tried to go back? I didn’t think illithids were sentimental.”
The sylph snorted. They were glad she was facing the wall.
They went with the truth, although it was nonsensical even to them …I don’t know.
Rhea’s expression barely changed, but there was a tiny shift around her eyes. Incredulity? “You don’t know.”
It must have made sense at the time.
Her expression was very readable now. She was completely dumbfounded, as if they’d somehow managed to say something even more nonsensical.
I don’t remember much… but now that they thought about it, they did remember the smell of burning pitch.
…you were going to burn them.
“Of course we were going to burn them; it’s the only thing that keeps them back.”
The poison was also likely a factor.
Well, that and the horrifying monstrosity feeding on their psyche for the better part of a decade.
Although she caught more than I did. Are you able to heal her any more?
“She seems to be breathing well enough.”
I’ll also need to eat at some point myself. I can’t eat the same things she does.
“Oh I’m very aware of that. That’s why I left her in here with you.”
Rhea glanced at her but the sylph dismissed this easily; she almost wished Xotchtil would try again. It was a struggle to not say anything inflammatory back. Maybe they shouldn’t have bothered translating what Rhea said for her, but they’d worried she’d act worse. Either way, this was not the time to get dragged into another petty argument. They tried something different.
Your sister asked the guard outside when and how long you’d be down here.
Rhea straightened almost imperceptibly,“…and what did he say?”
The truth. He didn’t know.
Rhea eyed them thoughtfully. They had never needed to understand body language or facial expressions enough to know if the lie had landed just now.
There was a crashing sound above them, then yelling. Now they could tell with almost certainty that she hadn’t expected that. She glanced back at them quickly.
“We’ll finish this later.”
And she was gone.