Chapter Text
She fell out of the sky again, but this time instead of falling into the ocean she fell into the earth. She dropped deep into it and it caved in on top of her and smothered her. She had no idea how the body she was in was still alive when she couldn’t feel air entering it. She opened her eyes and saw a stone ceiling crushing down on her. She couldn’t move. He’d bound her again, this time inside of the earth instead of on it.
Xotchtil woke up sucking in a massive gulp of air. Their vision returned but only as blurry shapes of light and dark. Their ears were too full of static to hear anything. They couldn’t pick up their head. They coughed, then gagged, then threw up. Their vision finally cleared into a splash of mucous over the split ribbons of their face. There was still a small stream of blood steadily pulsing out of one of the halves. They puked again. There was a faint scuffling across the room, and words they couldn’t make out over the static. A pair of boots swam into view. There was some murmuring, then the boots walked away. Their ears popped and the static faded.
“What was that?”
“Something the illithid’s thrall did. It’s extremely destructive. Should be dispelled… for now.”
They were able to make out the shape of a large… lizard…? behind Rhea. Someone was riding on it in a saddle.
“With Lloth’s blessing, praise be, aaand!!!–you’re welcome.” Matron Malthra tipped her head to them with one hand splayed over her chest.
A chagrined sigh, “That too.” Tazennin was behind her in the saddle, holding onto her waist for dear life, but he still grimaced a little when she rolled her hips into him.
“Alright, well. Rhea, it looks like you’ve got this. We’ve got an afterparty to go to!”
“You know, maybe I should stay behind with Rhea. Just in case? What if she does …something else?” He gestured at the sylph laying next to Xotchtil, still barely conscious. She seemed to be under the impression that she’d been buried alive and was suffocating, but that wasn’t a new feeling for her. She was also visibly breathing even in their blurry view from across the room.
The young matron sighed deeply and leaned back into him, “Do you promise to stay out of trouble?”
“Altar boy’s honor,” he smiled stiffly as he quickly but clumsily dismounted.
Rhea sighed, then looked down at Xotchtil. Her expression moved from dispassionate assessment to a vague disgust. She went and got a lantern off the wall and crouched down, careful to only let the bottom of her boots touch the mess. Her lip curled as she reached down to grab the intact base of their split tentacle while drawing out a knife.
What are you doing? they finally managed to project.
“Stopping the bleeding. Hold still.”
No, no, no, please. Can’t you just heal it? Or stitch it together? OR SOMETHING!?
“I have about a hundred more people to get to who might get half that if they’re very lucky. Hold. Still.”
They tried to loosen her grip and squirm away. Rhea groaned in annoyance and straddled them, pinning their upper arms under her shins.
Just cut a little lower maybe? Or more carefully!? Please? PLEASE! At least JUST W–
She cut. They screamed. Rhea grimaced at the psionic burst. She opened the lantern and jammed the fresh cut end into the flame for a few seconds. They screamed louder. She dropped the tentacle and pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead in significant discomfort for a few seconds before finally just slapping them.
“SHUT. UP!” She yelled while raising her hand again.
They did.
Rhea sighed, and cleaned her knife and hands off on Xotchtil’s shirt. She put the knife away and stood up, looking down at the mess on her pant legs in disgust. Xotchtil laid on the floor in silent shock.
“I think it’s time we talked about the terms of your sanctuary. First of all–” she pointed at the sylph, “–keep that thing under control.”
At the word ‘control’ the sylph’s panic slipped sideways into rage. She started moving her limbs, slowly and disjointedly, but moving.
Just let them say what they need to say.
“Today it hurt a lot more of my enemies than my friends and I can reconcile that. If that changes your welcome will expire.”
The elemental was not taking any of this well. The situation had changed around her and the storm in her mind hadn’t found its new pattern yet. She couldn’t strike out with lightning but (based on previous experiences) this just increased the likelihood of her doing something even more insane. There was also a significant part of her that saw this as just another ploy on their own part.
It’s not! I’m– with a true thrall it was important to project calm. They needed to know you were in control of the situation. They also knew that wouldn’t work here. They stared her down –I’M SCARED. She just cut off half of my face! I’M. SCARED. I’m scared they’re going to kill us. Or at least put us back in that box, but for good.
She suddenly relaxed slightly… well, she didn’t relax, but she had stilled. They realized she was feeling their heart race. They let it race.
They don’t like your kind, the way you look at least. They’ve gone to war over it. Let them think you’re mine. Please. At least for now.
“–also!? Stay out of people’s heads unless you’re asked.”
At that, the corner of the sylph’s mouth twitched up, but she stayed quiet.
Rhea turned on her heel and left, leaving them to drag themselves up out of the blood and vomit. They didn’t offer to help clean up, and neither Rhea nor anyone else asked. Even without directly probing they could sense the general unease directed at them by most if not all members of the house.
They wandered, out of place, until they found themselves on a terrace overlooking the courtyard. She felt at home sitting on top of the railing, legs swinging out into the open air. Her mind was a flash of random images, some of which they recognized, and others they didn’t. They sat themselves against the back wall, legs splayed out in front of them. With their face asymmetrical, especially the loss of a long one, they had trouble balancing while walking. It was exhausting, especially on top of everything else that had happened. After a while she turned to glance back at them.
“So what do we do now?”
Same thing as always I suppose, survive.
“Not much of a goal.”
It’s the only one we’ve consistently met. What were you hoping for?
She didn’t answer that.
Do you miss the surface?
She missed the southern sky quite a bit, actually but there was also a deep anxiety layered into the longing. They pressed, briefly but curiously, and the anxiety suddenly spiked. It was like her mind was running away from that thought for some reason. They changed the subject.
My skin has gotten quite dry. I’ve been thinking about asking if there’s somewhere I can soak, like a bath or something.
She glanced down at the fountain in the courtyard. Through her eyes it looked as though the water held a fair amount of blood and… other things… in it. A picture formed in her head and she chuckled slightly.
She swung her legs around somewhat carelessly, and her back briefly dipped out towards the open air. In the end however, her feet came down on solid tile and she hopped forward towards them. She sat to their left, facing them, but leaning against the wall.
Her eyes had focused on their injured tentacle, the long one. She slowly raised her hand and reached towards their face. They didn’t flinch or pull away from her, but they certainly didn’t turn into the touch either. They tried to act like they didn’t care either way, like they weren’t scared of her. They doubted they were completely successful.
With the back of her fingers she gently picked up the one she’d damaged herself, the shorter one. The very tip had just started growing back in. Most of it would probably grow back eventually, but it would also probably stay shorter than the others.
“Will the long one grow back too?”
They sighed, I don’t know. It’s not impossible but… The priestess, Rhea? She burned it to seal it. I don’t know what that will do.
“You feel funny when you walk. When you’re all the way in my head. I can feel you’re off balance. I didn’t think it was that heavy.”
It’s not, it’s like… Well I suppose you don’t know what it’s like to be an animal with whiskers.
She briefly pictured them as a cat and giggled to herself. They weren’t able to hide their own amusement. Even a week away from the dragon made the holes left in their psyche mortifyingly obvious.
She dropped her hand and frowned slightly. They saw a flash of the drow’s hand slipping and the blade sliding up the length of the tentacle.
Oh don’t tell me you’re guilty now. You were quite pleased with yourself for sinking your teeth into me.
Guilt wasn’t the right word, but the emotion was so muddled there wasn’t really any RIGHT word.
She flopped both shoulders back against the stone wall and stared out at the cavern. If she didn’t look too hard she could pretend the little spots of glowing fungi were stars.
The drow pretend they’re stars too. They also miss the surface. It’s why they don’t like how you look. You look like the people that forced them down here.
A series of dark thoughts flashed across her mind so quickly all they caught was a deep sense of resentment and a desire for vengeance. Interestingly, they were almost certain it had little or nothing to do with them. Again, they didn’t press; this was one of her more peaceful moods. They weren’t ready for it to end.
The sylph felt a small shift in the air and stiffened, her eyes snapping to the doorway. Rhea’s brother, the wizard, rounded the corner.
“My mother would like to speak to you.”