Chapter Text
Matron Selca Blundyth was ancient, but otherwise very different in person than she appeared in secondhand memories. To others’ recollection, she was half asleep most of the time, and when awake, she either said things that didn’t make much sense or acquiesced to whatever her daughters told her was the best idea (or, recently, the matron of another house entirely).
In person… she did seem tired, so that much was true, but it was more aggrieved than inattentive. She didn’t turn to acknowledge them walking in, but they saw her eyes flicker toward them and away without her ever moving her head. Even stranger, they got absolutely nothing from her psionically–not even emotion. They could sense that she was there and alive, and that was it.
Her daughter Noime, on the other hand, was constantly exuding a feeling of insecurity. She busied herself making sure her mother was comfortable, pouring out some water for her and putting her feet up. As they made their way to the center of the room, Noime straightened her own clothes and sat down next to her mother, holding her hand.
There was a long silence. Noime finally broke it. “Mother wants to know what your business is in Eryndlyn.”
They still didn’t have a good answer to that question.
We’re just looking for somewhere to stay for a while.
Noime looked expectantly at her mother. Nothing.
“Okay, but, um–why should we let you stay here?”
…We can go if you need us to. We did break out of your holding cells, but we also helped fight off your invaders. If that’s not enough, we can probably find another house to take us in.
“No! No, that’s okay. We can probably find somewhere to put you…”
Behind them, Tazennin sighed. They caught a tiny flicker of annoyed boredom. “Kelaufein didn’t make it. They can have his quarters.”
“Did anyone ask you?!” shouted Noime.
There was a long silence.
Noime recovered. “…Some of our fallen have left open living space if you would like to stay and serve our house.”
Also, she– they hesitated –my thrall needs to eat. And I need a bath, if you know where I can get some warm water and a tub.
“The goblin slaves can attend to you when they’re done with the rest of their duties this evening.”
Another long pause. She suddenly shouted at Tazennin, “Well, go show them!”
They turned to see him shrug and then stride out into the hall. Both of them followed, but the sylph trailed behind Xotchtil, watching Tazennin carefully from around their shoulders. When she looked at him, she seemed to feel compressed for some reason they couldn’t quite identify.
Two turns in, Tazennin turned to go around a corner ahead of them and froze. Footsteps closed in, and he suddenly tucked his chin and averted his eyes to the floor. “Matron Malthra.”
“Oh, I think we’re well acquainted enough now for you to call me Maluarra.”
He poorly masked the pain in his smile. “Of course.”
She walked far enough around the corner to see the two of them behind Tazennin, and although she was surprised, it didn’t seem to bother her. “Little Lightning!” she exclaimed, smiling widely at the sylph. She turned to Xotchtil. “–And the Mind Flayer. Selca keeps such interesting houseguests. It’s just one of many things I’ve always admired about her.” She was holding some kind of bottle, which she turned and offered to Tazennin. “Another is her taste in fine wines. I don’t think she’ll mind us borrowing this one.”
“Unfortunately, I promised Mother I would find these two somewhere to sleep, so we’ll have to–”
“Nonsense! I’ll come along, and when you’re done, we can enjoy each other’s company!”
Xotchtil caught a flicker of anxiety as the wizard glanced back at them. Tazennin finally managed some kind of noncommittal noise and returned to the path he was showing them. Maluarra Malthra trailed along behind, turning the bottle in her hands. She was somewhat difficult to read, but not impossible, and it matched her exterior affect quite well; she was riding a high of confidence and success.
Tazennin was silent both before and after this encounter, and more or less opaque to Xotchtil the entire time. The sylph, however, felt his heart rate steadily climb. By the last two turns, they were feeling the tiniest bleedover of anxiety from him. They finally made it to what they assumed was their destination because he stopped, but he didn’t acknowledge… anything. He just stood there in silence for a long, awkward moment.
…So, is this the correct…?
He shrugged. More silence.
Maluarra finally broke it. “Well, if that’s everything, we can head back to yours!”
He was facing away from them, but his mental defenses gave way. There was still no detectable higher-level thought, but Xotchtil was hit with a wave of nausea, terror, and hopelessness. His body visibly stiffened, and the sylph felt his heart rate shoot high enough that he might as well have been sprinting. Something must have shown on his face, because Maluarra’s eyes went wide and she froze.
Another long pause, but again, Maluarra was the one to take responsibility for breaking it. “…I seem to have miscalculated.” Another pause, but only for a beat. “My apologies. I think… I think I’ll just… go, actually.” She pushed the bottle into Xotchtil’s chest, then turned and walked away.
Tazennin stood still, facing away from them, taking long, slow breaths until his heart rate was back under control, or something close to it, anyway. He finally turned to them and eyed Xotchtil with an unreadable expression. “Did you–” he took one more long, rattling breath “–did you do something?”
More silence.
Tazennin unlocked the door, handed them the key, and left.
“Did you do something?”
I could barely tell any of what she was thinking. I doubt I COULD have.