Super belated but I found this in my drafts and figured that now was as good a time as any to post it, hope you enjoy it!
Molly knows enough about the gods and goddesses to know in which realm he stands, and who's presence he stands in. As if the murky black around him and the churning red beneath him didn't give it away.
He is dead.
He knows he is undoubtedly removed from his prior plane of existence. He remembers how he died, the circumstances that led him there, the paths he chose.
Molly looks down, surprised to find no gaping wound from that fucker's glaive, just a ridge of scar tissue. It looks at home amongst the fine scars that decorate his skin. His coat is gone however, which means the Raven Queen's domain is a shitty afterlife. He doesn't have his swords either, not that he expects to be attacked in this place. It's more the matter of their familiar weight at his sides. He's floating in this space, he imagines the swords would have made him feel anchored.
However, the rest of his adornments seem to be in place. He shakes his head, feels his horn jewelry move with the motion and plasters on a smile. He takes a deep breath to tamp down the mounting buzz that's making its way through his body, rattling his bones and turning his insides to putty.
At last, he casts his eyes to the Matron of Ravens herself.
She is impossibly massive in this space, all encompassing yet somehow solely fixed in place before Molly. Her porcelain mask obscures her features, he's heard from bard songs that she rarely removes the mask, and Molly floats immediately in front of the black hole that is her right eye.
All the same, an air of grace surrounds her.
"My Lady," Molly says. He can't quite bow, but he manages to duck his head in somber respect, and throw his arms out in a show of personality.
"Mollymauk Tealeaf."
Ah, vindication.
"What happens now?" he asks. "This body has been dead before, I'm afraid I don't remember meeting you."
"That is because you did not meet me, Mollymauk. I spoke with the soul who initially inhabited your body. We are not here to discuss him though, we are here to discuss you. There is a time frame I must abide by before sending you on your way. You follow the Moonweaver?"
"I do."
"You will be sent to her domain then, when the time has come. Tell me, Mollymauk, do you wish to be revived?"
Molly opens his mouth for a split second before promptly closing it. He did good when he was alive, didn't he? He did some not so good, but the net good is fairly high, he thinks, and he's proud of the way he's lived his life. He knew whatever path he chose would lead him here. He knew that whatever time he had was not enough for a long life, and he'd made his peace with that.
He'd made his peace with dying.
Does he want to go back?
"Can I ask you something?"
The Matron's forms grows, he can tell because his own form is no longer level with her eye, but within it. He's not sure if that is a good thing, or a bad thing.
"Ask wisely."
"Beau, the unpleasant monk woman in blue, is she still alive?"
It's a risky question, there's probably a rule against questions like the one he just asked. But he has to know.
"Does this knowledge affect your decision?"
"It does."
She is silent for a moment, and Molly feels like he's about to scream when she finally speaks.
"Her soul does not reside within my domain," she says, voice low and paced. "Your decision."
"I don't see how they'll revive me, we lost our cleric, if they somehow find a way to bring me back, I'll be happy. But, I won't be troubled if my frame of time passes by. I've lived a life I'm proud of."
"Well said, Mollymauk."
"Thank you, my Lady."
Something like a feather strokes down the tattooed side of his face, midstroke it becomes a hand. The Raven Queen is human sized now, standing a few inches taller than Molly. Her mask is still in place, but now he can make out more of her figure. A dress of black intricacies disappears into a puddle of ink beneath her. Her hair behaves in a similar fashion, though parts of it float and meld into the shadows.
"Now," she says, "you wait."
Then Molly is alone.
He's standing on his own two feet, face calm, tail swishing violently behind him. It's all black around him now, the red is gone, just massive tiles of obsidian, and endless space above. Despite the fact that he can see, there are no visible light sources.
Molly stays standing for all of five seconds before his knees hit the polished stone with a crack. He curls into a ball, muscle memory making him mind his horns, and begins hyperventilating.
How shitty is the after life that he can still have panic attacks?
He's fine with being dead, he's been fine with it for a while now but he'd like it if he could be dead with other people.
It would be preferable.
Maybe he can just sleep through his rule mandated time frame? Can souls sleep? Surely, if they can have panic attacks, they can sleep. There's no booze, not that he can tell anyway, so what are souls supposed to do anyhow? Wait?
Patience has never been one of his virtues, and being alone isn't something he's good at.
Molly's not sure how long he stays in the fetal position, but he eventually uncurls, rolling to lay on his stomach instead.
It will be fine.
If they revive him, that's well and good. If they don't, he'll pass on to the Moonweaver and, hopefully, her domain won't be as heartachingly empty as this one.
It feels like an eternity but he hears boots echo across the obsidian floor. He prepares to stand but stops on his hands and knees.
Curious vines of deep green curl around his wrist and up his arms, dotted in blooming flowers. Moss clings to his hands, and patches of bark have covered the snake's head. He sits up, tentatively touching his face, only to find more flora. An array of flowers appears to follow the pattern of his peacock tattoo, and what skin he can see is covered in various greenery and plant life.
Is that what happens in this realm? He doesn't remember anything like this in the bard songs.
It's an interesting look, to say the least.
"You're Mollymauk Tealeaf?"
It's a man's voice, speaking in accented Common. He's pale, long black hair pulled back in a ponytail but with a few strands framing his face. He's dressed in quite the ensemble, and Molly feels qualified to judge. There aren't too many colors, almost entirely black, and feathered too, goodness. Really, the only spots of color belong to the blue feather in his hair, and a strange pin made of, what appear to be, dragon scales.
"I am."
"I'm Vax'ildan, Champion to the Raven Queen, I'm here to take you to the Moonweaver's Domain."
"Ah, that's nice, the timeframe up then?"
"It is."
"Excellent."
Before he can take his first step, a wail tears through the air around them. It's not just any wail, it's one of anguish, of loss, with a growling undercurrent of rage.
"Yasha," Molly breathes.
"A friend of yours?" Vax'ildan asks.
"The very best friend a tiefling could have," Molly says after a moment. "It's good though, she's alive. I was worried she wouldn't be."
Vax'ildan has a look in his eyes that Molly's never seen before, it's none of his business, so he ignores it.
"Well, if you're ready."
"I am. Can I ask something though?"
Vax'ildan begins walking and Molly falls into step beside him.
"What is it?"
"What's with the flowers?" he asks, gesturing to his newly acquired plant matter.
"I...am not sure, actually. I assumed that was normal for you."
Molly laughs, the noise echoing around the neverending darkness.
"No, I wish though, this would have been cool in the circus."
They come up to a door that was most definitely not there before, the darkwood emblazoned with the symbol of the Moonweaver.
"That simple, huh?" Molly asks.
"Not quite," Vax'ildan says with a smile, "it's just easier to transition this way. Go on through when you're ready. I'm sure you'll shine bright with the Moonweaver, circus man."
Just like that, Vax'ildan is gone and Molly doesn't hesitate to push open the door.
Still technically on a bit of a hiatus, but I needed to post something or I was gonna lose my god damn mind.
Hope you liked it, let me know what you think!
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