NOTES: Sooo sorry if Viconia and Xan sound completely off.
On the surface, Viconia was familiar with being violated by men. Used as a pleasure slave by the Calishite caravan merchant and his sexually-starved fellow travelers, Viconia knew all about the lust and perversion that drove male surfacers to ravage her body. As a drow, she used her skills in the erotic arts to twist the depravity around, luring the men into a physical and mental bondage, until they craved not just her flesh but her company unremittingly. So much so in the end they ended up doing her bidding – the caravan traveled where she willed, men-turned-pawns begged her not to stop running her hands and tongue over them, and for several weeks, she led a satisfactory existence outside the Underdark.
But she had never been violated by a stolen kiss. By the most abhorrent of races – an elf. And even worse, one that belonged to the bottom of the pile.
Nay, he belonged to the bottom of the garderobe chute, the cesspit, as one of the caked piles of excrement that couldn't be scraped off even with a chisel. For being a coward who SHUT THE DOOR ON HER right after he dared kiss her. And avoided her ever since.
The drow paced her suite from the wooden folding screen by the tub to the chest of drawers. She stopped in front of the full-length mirror. Peering at her reflection, Viconia ran a finger over her plump lips. She was unacquainted with … lips-against-lips contact. When her four former husbands (all slain by her) kissed her, it had always been simply something to preoccupy the hole in their faces with as they drove themselves deep into her, which she would describe more accurately as sucking tongues and biting lips. Surface males avoided kissing her altogether during sex, preferring to bite her neck or shoulder instead.
Therefore that timid kiss by Xan, that most pitiful display of affection, bothered her. She never expected him to pull such a stunt, though when he appeared in front of her door drunk the other night, she thought they might have fornicated (he did tell her to "blow" him after all, unless she had misunderstood that surface expression somehow). The kiss lasted all but a second but her mind had been replaying that moment when his lips brushed against hers.
Xan's lips were soft, warm, and had caused a strange sensation that tingled through her body. The sensation lingered minutes even after that moment had passed (and the coward had shut the door and ran away), like a faint trail of perfume, the diminuendo of a melody.
Viconia honestly wouldn't mind a repeat performance.
Has life on the surface driven you mad? Desiring such unnatural relations … AN ELF, of all creatures (including orcs and farm animals like goats)!
Then again, compared to that deranged, flea-infested racist Kivan, Xan was the least arrogant elf she had met. Rather than boast about his own prowess by virtue of being Seldarine, he believed instead, earnestly and resolutely: "We're all doomed." He could suffocate the hope of a nation, quash the dreams of small children, and convince a person that suicide was the best life decision they have ever made. To him the glass was not only half-empty but poisoned also.
Yet he had been entrusted with a moonblade. Miracle or not, the legendary blade had deemed the miserable elf worthy of wielding it and had not (yet) spontaneously combusted in his hands. He had also, somehow, managed to carve a career as a Greycloak. Viconia didn't know much about the Evereskan law enforcers, but she was certain he didn't get into the academy simply "by collecting ten gold star stickers on his report card in school", despite Arquen's claims.
To top it all off, the pessimist extraordinaire was an enchanter. A master of the art of manipulating emotions and thoughts. What a walking contradiction! With such a skill, why couldn't he simply brainwash himself with giddy happiness, pleasant memories and false hope? Why would he suffer through all those debilitating thoughts, and even painful ones?
A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
Even though it could not have been anyone else (the addled girls Arquen and Imoen had a distinct way of banging a door if they were not picking the lock; and unless Rasaad had a death wish he would never dare approach her), Viconia was still surprised to see Xan standing outside her room.
Perhaps it was his peculiar appearance – Xan had his cloak on with his hood pulled around his head so tight that only the inner corners of his eyes could be seen.
"Ae ghdd ynrr mmsscch," the elf said under his muffle mask, completely unintelligible. "Cnn ei kmnm nn."
"Are you are honestly not aware of how ridiculous you appear? I cannot make out what you are saying, you idiot!" Viconia told him sharply.
He tipped his forehead down and released the bottom of his hood slightly. "Can I come in?"
Viconia stepped aside to let the elf enter her room. Xan dragged himself in, keeping his head lowered the whole time. Even as he stood in the centre of the room, he kept his gaze on the floor as if her face had been superimposed onto the carpet. Viconia folded her arms across her chest and waited for the elf to speak.
"Seldarine, this is so mortifying. Death by a twisted neck would've been kinder," Xan let out a defeated sigh as he pulled down his hood.
Circus displays didn't normally amuse the drow, but Viconia found herself chewing down hard on her lips, which started trembling uncontrollably at the sight of Xan. One side of the elf's face – from temple to chin and covering the whole of his left cheek – had been impressively marked with a large, pale red handprint.
Well done, moon-child! Viconia thought, with never-felt-before appreciation of the Sun Soul Monk.
"Your message was duly conveyed," Xan said meekly, still not daring to establish eye contact. He heaved his shoulders and sighed miserably. "Healing potions cured the sting, but I am unable to rid the scarring from the burns. Don't you think it was a bit excessive to ask Rasaad to use his Flaming Fist on my face?"
"I said nothing about using his fire abilities. How inspiring, truly! I never imagined the moon-child capable of self-initiative!" Viconia said, genuinely impressed. Who knew Rasaad had it in him to exploit his 'light', when sprawling himself over a bed drunk with an open invitation to fellate already seemed like such a bold step towards adulthood!
"Please stop encouraging Rasaad to behave like an outraged virgin!" Xan begged, finally looking at her. His blue eyes flashed wide pleadingly to her at first, then slowly the cloud formed back over them with that defeated, hollow look.
Viconia hissed at the elf with a glare, "At least he dares still to approach me in my state of fury. You, on the hand, are a true coward."
"Battle heroics aside (though nearly all accomplished through dumb luck), believe me when I say that kissing a drow was one of my bravest acts."
Viconia lifted a brow. "I wasn't referring to that, you dolt."
The pale moon elf turned pink, and the handprint a darker shade of red. "You weren't?"
"I was referring to your deliberate attempts to avoid me after your pathetic slobbering act!"
"Oh." Xan swallowed, cleared his throat, and shifted his weight slightly from one foot to the other. "Are you seeking an apology?"
Viconia rolled her eyes. One thing she never understood about surface dwellers was their repentance for every possible wrongdoing, from bumping into each other's shoulders by accident when walking ("Oops! Sorry about that!" they would exclaim) to ejaculating too quickly during sex ("Oops! Sorry about that!" Nearly in the same manner).
"Because I am not at all sorry for what I did," the elf continued, daring to narrow his eyes at her, to Viconia's surprise. If he had apologized, debased himself like so many surface weaklings commonly do, Viconia would've immediately casted him into the Confirmed List of Cowards and decided that he would not be worth her time anymore. But he didn't apologize. Moreover, those deep blue orbs with gold flecks flashed her a stubborn, defiant look.
"So why have you come?" she demanded.
"Because I was forcefully informed that you were looking for me," Xan said, tipping his chin up. Then he pointed at his face. "Secondly, you need to wipe this deformity off my cheek, seeing you caused it."
Unexpectedly bold of the elf to speak to her like so, but … fair enough. She would admire a forthright character. Viconia raised her hand over his face, chanting slowly and watching the handprint glow a bright yellow, somewhat comically like a glow-in-the-dark glove, before it faded away. For a moment, she kept her hand on his restored cheek, touching its smooth, pale skin. She wondered how he would've reacted had she been the one to slap him yesterday. At the same time, she also wondered how … beautiful his features were for a male.
Xan cleared his throat as if he read her thoughts and she lowered her hand back under her folded arm.
"If I may ask," the elf spoke slowly, "Were you offended? With the kiss?"
Kissing a goblin with rotted teeth that had just wallowed in a pigsty's filth would have been more desirable was what Viconia wished to say. But some form of madness overcame her tongue and she found herself speaking the truth. "No."
Next, she felt compelled to ask Xan in return, "Were you seeking to offend me? With the kiss?"
"You may consider me mad in saying this, but … no."
How peculiar, and disturbing it was, that they felt the same way. But if they were not offended, and if they rather enjoyed the experience, then ... it shouldn't feel wrong, should it? But clearly it also shouldn't feel right.
They stood there for almost a minute staring at each other. Viconia couldn't read Xan's stoic expression but she was battling inside her mind not to fantasize over him kissing her. She tried again to attribute the elf with the irredeemable arrogance and honed hatred of his race, that he may repel her, but she couldn't.
Xan cleared his throat again, which she thought must be parched by now. "I must admit my opinion of you has changed since you started traveling with us, though it is still too early to tell if you will be the destruction of this band."
"You would think me terrible enough, elf, if you knew enough about me. I am drow … make no mistake about that," Viconia assured him. "But I must admit that you, too, are not so terrible ... for a lowly male, that is ... of a detestable race ... and surface scum ... who fancies the color purple … not to mention a shit –"
Xan waved his hand in front of her to stop her from continuing. "I suppose now that both of us have the … clarifications we sought, I shall take my leave," he said, and turned around to dash towards the door. He opened the door, made his exit and shut the door behind him within a record speed of 1.89 seconds.
Viconia stood in the centre of the room in a muddled state of mind for what seemed like a long time until there was loud banging on the door this time around. Was it Xan coming back?
She opened the door to the excitable faces of Arquen and Imoen instead. It was uncanny how the two girls could buzz with such level of energy that hummingbirds looked sluggish in comparison. They invited themselves into the suite without asking her.
"Viconia!" the half-elf announced with a beaming smile, "We've got the perfect spell that will do absolute wonders to you!"
Taking a cue from Xan, Viconia said sharply, "That sounds mightily suspicious!"
"You have to trust us!" Imoen declared next, making their plan all the more suspicious. However, since she was feeling exhausted from her encounter with Xan, Viconia decided to amuse the girls by agreeing.
"Brilliant!" Arquen quipped as she stepped in front of Viconia and raised her hands.
Then she lowered them again. "Um … you should cast it, Immy. I don't want to turn another person into a hermaphrodite with three breasts again," she said nervously.
Alarmed, Viconia raised her hand to stop Imoen from casting the spell but before she could do so, Imoen had caused a gust of chill wind to blow down on her from head to toe. A prickling sensation seeped across her skin.
Arquen let out a squeal of delight. The half-elf started jumping up and down and clapping her hands like a cymbal-banging monkey toy. "Immy, it worked! It worked!" Then she grabbed Viconia by the arm, pulled her over to the mirror and pointed at the blonde-haired, rosy-cheeked, sparkling-blue-eyed, cherry-lipped, big-bosomed elf inside it.
When Viconia put her fingers to her cheek, it shocked her that the blonde elf did exactly the same.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?" she screamed, as did the elf in the mirror.
"Calm down, Viconia!" Arquen said, her enthusiasm not at all dampened by the rage radiating out of Goldilocks. "We do this so you can move about freely in town. Wouldn't it be great to experience how people react to you differently without scorn or prejudice?"
"I would rather be pelted by hailstones and rotten fruit than be an elf!"
"Or you could get away with any depraved act you've always wanted to do in public, knowing that you won't be humiliating yourself but just the elf race!" Imoen suggested, surprising Viconia with so much vindictiveness behind that innocent grin.
"Let us make our grand entrance downstairs! Go fetch the rest, Immy!" Arquen said and her pink-haired sister immediately skipped off.
Viconia looked into the mirror again to see the pale creature donning her green dress. She wanted to hurl, feeling as if she'd just gained two hundred pounds, lost an eye and transformed into a monster. Was this how shapeshifters felt upon taking the form of a beast? She could see in the reflection of Arquen standing in a cocky pose and grinning proudly behind her.
Viconia growled, "One day, I swear, you will live with the face of a drow for weeks!"
"Won't that be something to experience!" Arquen said, disturbingly cheerful about the prospect.
As they set foot into the tavern, Viconia already felt self-conscious about some of the heads that turned their way. Arquen normally had people casting glances at her, some to gawk at the attractive blonde, some to shake their heads in disgust at one of her many melodramatic acts, and some to match her description to the bounty notice.
This time around, Viconia felt the dozens of eyes trailing her every move with the complete opposite expression of horror and shrieks she had became accustomed to with her drow form. The half-elf had her arm linked around hers, navigating the long way around tables to parade Viconia like a bride. There were jaws agape with suspended breathing, eyes the size of saucers and legs crossing.
Not an altogether terrible experience. Perhaps she could enjoy this masquerade after all. Arquen steered her towards the round table where Imoen had seated two familiar male figures.
When they reached the table, Xan looked up with slowly-enlarging eyes just as Rasaad turned around. As always, the monk casted his first smile at Arquen before noticing there was someone else attached to the half-elf. "Have you a new friend, Arquen? Well met!" he greeted her affably.
"Greetings!" Viconia purred mockingly at the males, arching her back and striking a pose. "Does this elven glow spur lustful thoughts? Does this pale beauty give you males singular twinges of desire?"
Rasaad paused for a moment, blinking several times, then he let out a chuckle. "Ah, it is you, Viconia!" he exclaimed in his idiot-savant moment. "The instant you opened your mouth, it completely dispelled that illusion of the radiant form! What a splendid disguise to mask the true creature you really are!"
Did he just ... Viconia found the monk's words insulting, even more than if he had shouted "fuck you, drow!" Even more disconcerting was the complete sincerity in his tone and the fact he had no idea he had just uttered a slight. First slapping Xan with fire and now spouting sarcasm with unconscious competence?
The Selunite was evolving. She had better destroy him soon!
In an unimpressed voice, Xan said very slowly, "You ... look … like …"
"Hanali Celanil. Isn't that brilliant?" Imoen cut in with a proud quip.
"Ah, The Heart of Gold, Winsome Rose, Archer of Love, Kiss of Romance, Lady Goldheart. Deity of romantic love and beauty within the Seldarine," Rasaad joined in, as he removed the cutlery from the table napkin casually. "'Life is worth living because of the beauty found in the world and the love that draws twin hearts together. Nurture what is beautiful in life, and let beauty's glow enliven and brighten the lives of those around you'," he recited, causing everyone to turn and stare at him in stunned disbelief.
"YOU are familiar with the teachings of Hanali?" Arquen asked the monk in an incredulous voice.
"Of course."
In the flash of a moment, the half-elf had pulled a chair right up to the monk and sat so close to him that her thighs were hugging his knee and partially humping it. She placed one hand against her chest and the other against his. "'The greatest joy is the rapture of newfound love and the tide of romance that sweeps over those wrapped in its embrace. Find love wherever it takes root, and bring it to its fullest bloom so that all may share in it joy and beauty it creates'," Arquen recited in a breathless dreamy voice, gazing at the monk with worshipful affection.
"'Always give shelter and succor to young lovers, for their hearts are the truest guides to life's proper course,'" Rasaad quoted the next line. He returned Arquen's longing gaze with a dazzling smile. A ring of pink hearts appeared to dance in a circle clockwise around the half-elf's head. Viconia looked on curiously as Xan started reaching into his pockets with a sigh to take out his gold for the bet he was about to lose. Beside them Imoen clenched her fists until her knuckles trembled – about to burst if not die from seeing Rasaad hit with the realization of his puppy love right in front of him.
Then Rasaad turned his attention back to his napkin origami. He folded a boat.
Upon the failed romantic interlude ending with Arquen violently sinking the origami boat to the bottom of a bowl of broth, Viconia took a seat next to Xan at the round table. As he turned to her, she flipped her shimmering blonde hair in slow motion.
"I can see right through your disguise, Viconia," Xan sighed, rapping his fingers on the table. "Why do you even feel the need to do this? Have you not realized that the girls and their spellcasting are more unpredictable than a wild surge from a wild mage? Why … why couldn't you just cut two holes in a bed sheet and throw it over yourself?"
Viconia twirled a lock of gold hair with her finger. "The girls thought it would amuse your old comrades greatly. Do I not look breathtaking?"
"You look like a goddess," Xan mumbled, lowering his head to stare into his cup for a moment. Then he looked back up with an arrogant-bastard expression. "Which you are not. And stop masquerading as an elf, Viconia! You are not one, never will be –"
"I am born of a noble race," Viconia interrupted him by snapping. "Why would I aspire to be a weak fibre-bodied race, frolickers amongst daisies that require sunlight to grow in the same manner as plants!"
"You already possess beauty so breathtaking that all men stop to stare at you in awe or panic!" the elf blurted. Then instantly flushed pink in the ears.
His embarrassment was saved by a half-elf couple approaching the table. The tanned male had reddish brown hair, which was chin-length and combed neatly. He wore a simple brown day tunic with a double wrapped black leather belt carrying a long sword. Though he appeared honed with the skills of a warrior, his lips seemed to tremble with a grimace-smile as he perused the faces at the round table.
Perhaps his partner had something to do with it, Viconia thought of the female who had sharp features for a mongrel, with an even sharper expression. Her light blue elvish eyes, even more angular than Arquen's, had a glare so intense it could cut through glass. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back by several knotted rows on the top of her head and fell about her shoulders. She had an aristocratic look about her, but her manners exhibited roughness as she stood with her hands on her hips. Unlike her male's perusal to acknowledge and greet every individual at the table, her scrutiny was to determine that none of them had misbehaved in her absence.
Arquen slipped an arm over Viconia's shoulder. "This is the wonderful cleric I told you about. Jaheira, Khalid, meet Viconia!"
"Well met!" Khalid said in an awkward voice, as if between hiccups, and still displaying his grimace-smile.
"Delighted," Jaheira muttered with an icy look before turning to the girls. "You do realize this charade isn't going to last, don't you? And that it does nothing to change my opinion on matters except to despair at the extent of your audacity."
Arquen stood up, also with her hands on her hips and began a glaring contest with the druid. "Oh but we did this because it's our last day in Beregost, and we would like Viconia to enjoy a day out when she isn't hunted, spat at, and subjected to such awful, terrible prejudice."
The bickering between the older and younger half-elves carried on throughout their meal. Viconia noticed that in between very mundane discussions ("Khalid, what polish do you use for your shield?"; "Let us list down the expiry dates of all our spices so we know which ones to use first in Cloakwood."), Imoen, Rasaad, Xan and Khalid started communicating with each other through a sign language they appeared to have developed among themselves during their earlier travels, which included thumbs subtly pointing out all possible exit points, forefinger and thumb coming together or moving apart at the end of every sentence to rate its danger level, and whatever Imoen's rinsing-a-cloth sign could have meant.
"So Xan wasn't exaggerating for the first time and was actually bleeding to death?" Jaheira was exclaiming over the breaking of bread loaves. "Silvanus help me! Arquen, you are so young. Please listen to the wisdom your elders!"
"But that is exactly why I desire Viconia's company," Arquen quickly explained in her most serious tone of voice, though from what Viconia had observed so far about the half-elf, such a tone meant her motives were less sincere and more suspect. "Two hundred years of her wisdom and experience as a cleric. None of us can match up to her. Well, maybe Xan, but I'd really love to have a WOMAN I can look up to …"
There was an epic twitch in Jaheira's eye, commonly a sign of the infirm about to suffer a stroke.
Viconia was rather enjoying the backhanded insults between the half-elves when a bold moustachioed human marched right up to her. "You ... are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon!" he exclaimed. He dropped a bag the size of a pumpkin by her feet. Gold coins spilled onto the floor as he presented her next with a bouquet of fifty red roses. Then he unrolled a contract with the heading "Transfer of Ownership" and a long-winded list of details on the table, and placed a quill and an ink pot next to it.
"I lay down my estate to you if you shall be my betrothed this day!" the man gushed as he got down on one knee next. He took out a small jewelry box and opened it with the contents facing her. Inside was a ring with a diamond the size of a small grape. Arquen and Imoen gawked as they stared back and forth between the man and the bag of gold. Uncannily similar to the drow practice of forcing children to watch a tentacle-rod torture in order to desensitize them to violence, the girls held Rasaad down and compelled him not to look away. Even Jaheira couldn't mask the shade of green envy her face had turned, which was in direct contrast to the redness of the roses, and Khalid's lips trembled with insecurity.
The next thing she knew, Xan had grabbed her by the hand, yanking her up from her seat.
Upon giving the man a glare that threatened to set his moustache on fire, Xan escorted Viconia out of The Jovial Juggler.
Outside The Jovial Juggler, Viconia squinted slightly as the sun glared down at her. Even though she had the body of an elf, she didn't feel the urge to worship the noonday heat, sparkle under the sunlight or exhibit any strange phenomenon.
"Where are we going?" Viconia turned to Xan.
"Feldepost's Inn, to purchase some items for our travels," Xan mumbled, still holding onto her hand tightly as they walked past the few houses with timber frames and lawns strewn with firewood and barrels. On their left to the south, summer trees lined the fringe of the town and swayed their flame-colored leaves with the small breeze that made the noon more bearable for her sensitive skin.
The drow had never walked hand in hand with a male before. She peered down at Xan's slender fingers interlacing with her own, their palms touching and sharing the same warmth. It stirred up within her strange but pleasant feelings. The enchanter even felt like a weapon at her side, his arm tucked over hers as if leading her. Perhaps hand-holding wasn't something only little children could do after all?
Viconia noticed that the townsfolk regarded her with a different kind of interest today. Like how the males at the inn stared at her elvish form, she continued to draw admiring glances, but with Xan holding her hand, it kept them at a see-no-touch distance. Some women smiled in greeting, admiring their elvish beauty. If only they could learn how to admire the true beauty of drow, she thought, which was so much more refined than albino creatures!
Xan let go of her hand when they entered Feldepost's Inn and headed up the wooden steps to the elevated section, separated from the dining hall by a row of marble pillars. There the innkeeper displayed a few shelves and tables of simple weaponry and goods for sale.
The fat man greeted Xan with a frown. "The lady is welcomed, but YOU, pretty boy, I need to say GET LOST. You are banned from this inn!" He pointed at a noticeboard on the wall behind him, which had wanted posters of criminals, job vacancies, a missing chihuahua poster (with a reward of five thousand gold if found alive) and a 'Banned for Life' section with sketches of Arquen, Imoen, Rasaad, Xan, Kivan and her drow self.
Xan regarded the noticeboard incredulously – Viconia noted that his portrait was particularly androgynous – and started narrowing his eyes at the fat man. "You are mistaken. That is clearly another elf," he muttered in a monotonous tone.
The innkeeper was instantly charmed. "Oh, my apologies, good sir, I am mistaken. You elves all look alike! Even the two of you could pass for twin sisters!" he said, which caused Xan to turn a shade closer to his purple robes. "I thought you were part of this notorious group who trashed one of our rooms a tenday ago. I had to refit the entire place! They destroyed everything, those louts. Even the ceiling's got a hole in it!"
"Such uncivilized creatures!" Xan exclaimed as he rolled his eyes. "Could I have a look at your magical trinkets please?"
"Hmm, if it's trinkets you want, I've got this shiny amulet." The innkeeper retrieved a small glass box from behind the counter. Inside the box was an amulet with double white gold bands that weaved towards a small amethyst pendant. "They call it The Protector. Meant to be entrusted to the royal guard of King Pyronan of Impiltur. Sure it may have protected one of them in battle but it didn't protect them lot from fighting each other over who should wear it, like quintuplets fighting over the best dress in the prom dress store."
Xan rested his elbows on the counter as he fingered the amulet and laid it across his palm, examining the design and, no doubt, its magical properties. To Viconia's surprise, he then turned around and held it up in front of her.
"It looks fetching on the lovely lady too." The innkeeper gave Viconia a wink as he tugged at his green vest and puffed his chest. She raised a bemused brow at the grinning man as Xan cleared his throat loudly.
"Do you have anything else?"
"I have this ring called My Precious that turns you invisible, and also slightly mental. Used to be owned by a halfling by the name of Frodo Baggins."
"Hmm ... no, thank you," Xan muttered, still eyeing the amulet. "How much is the amulet?"
"For you, good elf? An incredible discount of fifty gold off its original price of five thousand."
Viconia flinched even though Xan didn't. That seemed like a lot of money for their group at this point! "Fair enough," he said. "Give us a pouch of masterwork bullets as well."
"Aye," the innkeeper said and turned around to rummage through his storage of ammunition.
Xan handed the necklace to Viconia without saying a word.
"What special occasion warrants such a gift?" she asked him teasingly as she accepted it.
The elf masked an indifferent expression. "We leave for Cloakwood tomorrow. Though we will probably end up lost in the wilderness, only to be found by vultures as carrion, it doesn't hurt to be well-equipped," he mumbled as he watched her put the amulet on.
Since the elf was being so generous, Viconia decided that the least she could do was treat him to a view of her neck. She swept her hair behind her shoulders before she slipped the chain around her neck slowly, letting the pendant dip low into her cleavage. She was very certain the elf was enjoying the view as Xan lowered his eyes from her face to the pendant and lingered.
When she clasped the chain in place, the elf's expression suddenly changed. His eyes widened in horror.
Viconia tugged at the pendant to peer down at it. Did it just trigger a spell or curse? The amethyst stone, which was the same color as her drow eyes, stared back at her with no effect, but the fingers clasped around it now had her original ebony skin instead of the pale shade she had for the last two hours.
The innkeeper turned back to them just then and dropped the pouch of bullets from his hands. "Dear dead Feldepost! Did your grave stumble into the Underdark?!" he exclaimed, staring at Viconia with that all-too-familiar look of terror.
Quickly, Xan waved his hand and a spell over Viconia, then held his hand up at the man. The innkeeper blinked several times, but, incredibly, managed to resist the elf's spell. "Where did she go?" he demanded. "Wait a minute! I recognize that drow, and you are the same mage from before … you destroyed my room, and now you are trying to rob me, aren't you?!" He came out from behind the counter and jabbed Xan's chest with his fat finger.
Viconia held up her hands in front of her, and realized she could see Xan through her hands because he had turned her invisible, and he was now trying desperately to contain the situation.
"No, I am not trying to rob you," Xan said as calmly as possible, attempting to wrestle control over the man's thoughts again.
The frowning man leaned forward at the elf and pointed at the top of his shaven head. "You aren't going to manipulate my mind, mageling! Bluffing me at cards, charming me during a blind date, maybe, but you can never fleece my wares! You see this Ward Against Bartering symbol? I carved the symbol into my head with a sewing pin myself!"
"I am counting my gold as we speak!" Viconia could sense Xan losing his patience as he gritted his teeth. "Last thing I want is a fathead getting all bent out of shape!"
"HOW DARE YOU CALL ME FAT!"
The outraged fat innkeeper let out a scream and grabbed Xan, lifting the elf several feet off the floor before he could utter a spell. He flung him down the steps like a sack of potatoes, where Xan crashed into a table with five servings of onion soup. Before Xan could scramble to his feet, the innkeeper dove on him with a headbutt drop to his ribs.
Not daring to dispel her invisibility and reveal her drow form, Viconia ran outside and crouched in a corner by the steps. Aside from the general feelings of battle anxiety, Viconia also experienced the strange sensation she had come to know as 'guilt' in the surface world. She hadn't felt at all guilty during the previous debacle at Feldepost's Inn that resulted in them getting banned for life, Kivan being the one to blame for smashing all the furniture in the room unprovoked. This time, she felt guilty for her drow form causing the innkeeper's reaction. Most of all she felt guilty for being the bearer of The Protector, as she was certain that Xan needed all the additional magical armor protection he could get, judging by the missiles in the shape of cucumbers and peeled onions flying out the windows, followed by clouds of smoke blowing out the door.
A few moments later, Xan was deposited onto the street, covered in sludge with pieces of sliced mushrooms and onions, which Viconia recognized as ingredients from the fireside tarts, Feldepost's Inn's house specialty.
Viconia ran over to Xan to pull him to his feet. "Do the onions hurt? For dignity's sake, can you cast another invisibility spell on yourself?"
Xan shook his head miserably, apparently having casted his one and only memorized invisibility spell on her.
They walked as swiftly as they could back to The Jovial Juggler. On the way, children pointed and laughed at the elf drenched in soup and sherry, with all food categories from the nutrition guide pyramid stuck to his robes and hair. Some observant townsfolk also noticed that he was no longer walking next to the Hanali Celanil lookalike and jeered loudly, "Ooo, so the beautiful elf dumped your sorry ass!"
The elf hung his head down, more miserable than she had ever seen him before, in his crowning ignominy.
Why was she still affected by … gnawing thoughts of Xan, accompanied by feelings of guilt alongside indebtedness? Viconia wondered as she fingered her new amulet absently, trying her best to pay attention to Imoen's tale on polymorph spells. "Imagine a day in the life of a mustard jelly! You could wobble across all sorts of surfaces and even battle a lich!" the girl was currently saying cheerfully as the three women ate their last supper together in Beregost.
Viconia couldn't help thinking about the earlier incident of Xan being attacked by the entire Feldepost's Inn menu. If she hadn't followed him there and had her illusion dispelled at such bad timing, their shopping would've gone by uneventful (but would she have gained the amulet then? Perhaps the trinket was worth letting Xan get squashed under a four hundred pound man?). Unsurprisingly, the elf had requested to be left alone and for dinner to be sent to his room (specifically requesting for dishes not containing mushrooms and onions).
Her thoughts were interrupted by Rasaad's figure standing in front of the table.
"Do you have a bottle of shampoo you could spare?" the monk asked the three women. All eyes looked up questioningly at the monk, whose head was so bald and shiny, it reflected the flickering light from the chandeliers above them.
He continued his query with unsettling innocence. "Oh, I almost forgot – it has to be scented shampoo, one that can get rid of any foul smell."
Jaws hit the table right then before the retching took over, faces blanched with trauma and eyes shifted downwards to where his monk garb draped a piece of cream-colored fabric patterned with a large symbol of Selune over his groin.
"Another thing, does anyone have a spare hairbrush?"
"Rasaad, since when did you develop such a SICK mind?!" Arquen, the most horrified of the three of them (and still seething from the rejection earlier today, thus seizing any opportunity to yell at the felon who scorned her), snapped. "That's bloody disgusting! Will you go into explicit details next on how the brush is going to be used for untangling coarse curly hair?"
The monk could only blink stupidly. "Uh, I am aware I may not be the most observant person when it comes to physical appearances, but I am fairly certain it is straight, slightly wavy, with centre parting … You should know, Arquen. You have a similar style, except your hair is much longer. And blonde, of course."
The half-elf's face turned into a beetroot.
"W-we were in the wilderness for days! I haven't had time for proper grooming!" she blurted.
"Whatever you used yesterday would probably work best, though," Rasaad continued, still with a straight face as if he was talking about weather philosophy. "You hadn't bathed for two days before that, remember? Yesterday when you pressed yourself against my face, you did smell, uh, somewhat musky."
"I thought you said nothing happened yesterday! Oh gods! TOO MUCH INFORMATION!" Imoen screamed. She shut her eyes, covered her ears with her hands, and started singing "la la la la" repeatedly at the top of her voice.
"I wash at least twice a day and I normally trim also shave sometimes I wax everything off I swear!" Arquen rattled loudly over Imoen's mental-asylum manner of singing, desperate to regain her feminine pride.
"You ... do? How is it possible?" Rasaad leaned over the table slightly – the three of them shuddered and held their breaths – and touched one of the blonde's braids to inspect it.
Something sounded amiss to Viconia ... "Are you actually talking about hair care for yourself, monk?" she had to ask.
"Huh? Whatever would I need shampoo and a hairbrush for? I have been shaving my head ever since I was eight! Xan asked me to fetch the items," he said with his permanent look of confusion. Then he stared at Arquen. "Who – what did you think I was talking about? Arquen, what were you talking about?"
There was a moment of profound silence when Dumb Blonde met her match with Dumb Bald.
"FORGET EVERYTHING I SAID!" Arquen squealed, fanning her face as if that could somehow blow away all the redness and humiliation.
Oh, this was so wickedly hilarious! If it hadn't involved Xan and given her an excuse to seek him out, Viconia would have definitely stayed to watch and contribute to the two disgracing themselves instead of standing up. "I shall attend to the elf's requests," she said.
"That is very generous of you, Viconia. Thank you." Rasaad, ever so chaste and blissfully ignorant, smiled at her appreciatively. It was the perfect time to perform the Daily Destruction of Selunite ritual.
"It is my pleasure," she said sweetly. She then patted him on the shoulder and added, "Just to enlighten you, monk, Arquen thought you were referring to the untamed hairiness and awful scent of her nether regions."
"VICONIA!" the half-elf shrieked just as the wheels in Rasaad's head squeaked into motion.
"No, Arquen, I was not at all referring to that part when I held your hips. Even though you hit my face with your thighs, I do not recall smelling anything awful. To be honest I cannot remember what you looked like naked because I got distracted by the book and –"
And Viconia let the conversation go downhill on its own and left.
When Xan opened the door, Viconia flourished the bottle of dewberry-scented shampoo and an unused hairbrush with a shake from side to side.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" the elf asked, though he gladly accepted the shampoo and brush.
"Did you realize you sent a bald monk on an errand to acquire shampoo?"
Xan pinched the insides of his eyes and groaned. "Should I ask what happened?"
"Well, if the monk ever kneels down at Arquen's altar, he would not be finding spider legs on his tongue."
"How in the world did shampoo descend into – even be associated with – no, I do not want to know!" Like Imoen, Xan appeared traumatized by bad mental images as he started hitting his forehead with his palm repeatedly. "Well, thank you for the items, regardless. I've washed my hair five times and doused myself in oils but still the smell of onions remains!"
He was about to turn away but saw that Viconia wasn't planning to leave just yet. "Is there something else, Viconia?"
"I would still like to have your company tonight," Viconia told him.
"Don't mock me any further with your bizarre fetishes!" he moaned, looking vexed.
"I wasn't thinking of bedding you, you filth-minded male! I only wish to sit with you as you read … or whatever it is you do."
Xan flushed pink. "You wish to suffer the boredom of watching me study my spellbook?"
Viconia nodded, thoroughly amused by the elf's perplexed face.
"Very well, if you wish," he finally said, letting her in.
Viconia entered the suite and promptly made herself at home. Xan had a pile of books strewn across a table, which she picked up to examine their titles and contents briefly. Amongst others there were several books on History of Waterdeep, History of the Drow, and The Bell Jar. She walked over to open the mahogany wardrobe to finger the spare purple robe and silver elvish tunic that hung inside. On his bedside table she spotted his journal, which had a padlock and glyph that emanated a sinister aura so she daren't touch it.
When she started playing with five smooth stones on the writing desk, attempting to stack them on top of each other, Xan cleared his throat loudly. "I see that the invasion of privacy is not only a peculiar habit of Arquen and Imoen's."
"You have five pet rocks," she remarked.
"They are runes, Viconia, runes. Not pet rocks." Xan took the stones away from her and swaddled them in a piece of cloth like a blanket. Then he pointed at the two-seater sofa in the middle of the room. "Weren't you just going to sit quietly?"
Viconia sat down on the sofa and pulled a cushion over her lap like an infant, fingering the silk covers and embroidery.
"Why don't you entertain yourself?" Xan handed her a book called Calming Meditations: 100 Soothing Tips. "Rasaad thought it would be of some help to me, but I think the suggestions are all impossible to do. But perhaps you might find something useful."
With nothing better to do, Viconia flipped to a random page.
When life threatens to overwhelm you, contemplate the vastness of the sky. Picture the clouds making way for an endless blue sky of possibilities and dreams.
"It is the sky that gives me the most nightmares and vertigo!" Viconia felt dizzy just thinking about the passage, about the unsettling fact that there was no roof to this world. What a stupid suggestion! She turned to another random page.
When strong emotions like anger or depression attempts to crush your spirit, whistle to yourself, inhale a slice of lemon and imagine the sun dancing with the rainbow.
Viconia couldn't think of anything worse than the warning sound of guard dogs being summoned, the scent of something that was used to keep latrines fresh, and mentally blinding herself (whilst spinning around seven colors madly) when the surface brightness was already terrible enough in reality!
"This is rubbish!" she muttered and dropped the book next to her feet. She glanced at Xan by her side. He was already in his own world as he pored over his spellbook.
Viconia decided to lean back and watch the elf. Apart from his delicate features, which Viconia thought very feminine – even among a race of flat-chested females and sissy males that looked identical – there was an endearing look about him, with his dark hair that fell about his shoulders and mostly hollow expression. Xan mumbled incantations under his breath as he tapped at symbols on the pages of his spellbook, then unconsciously moved his fingers about as if playing an air piano.
It wasn't the first time they'd sat side by side in that manner; him studying his spells, her watching him study his spells. Last week, when they spent many nights in the forest, with naught else better to do and when the girls' prattling began to give her headaches, she found Xan's company a welcome distraction.
Also, this was their last night in Beregost, in such luxurious accommodations and assured privacy from meddling children and Harpers.
She shifted slightly closer to him until their hips touched. He turned to her briefly – glancing down as if to confirm the space between them was now her dress's green fabric pressing against his grey trouser leg (and that the flesh on their thighs dwell within) – before turning his attention dutifully back to his spells.
Then Viconia rested her head on the elf's shoulder. She felt his body stiffen though he kept his eyes fixed on his spellbook. Indeed the strange smell of onions (now mixed with a desperate sprinkling of lavender essential oil) was still in his hair, but she had been with plenty of men who smelt fouler so it would be the last thing that would offend her.
After ten minutes of Xan reading the same page, followed by his odd manner of frequently swallowing and inhaling only once every minute, Viconia decided to run her hand over the length of his thigh.
Xan dropped his spellbook – it flipped off his knee before landing on the floor facedown – and blushed a furious shade of red from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
He stood up and turned to her, blue eyes blazing with a combination of anxiety, confusion and desire.
"I was only trying to thank you for the fine gift of the amulet today," Viconia said teasingly.
Xan looked down at her and the amulet. "I only wanted to … the amulet will protect you in battle. And keep you safe. That the pendant matches the color of your eyes perfectly, is just a coincidence."
"It was not a special gift for me then? A token of affection between a male and female on the surface?" Viconia pouted at him.
"N-no. Because the communion of elves ... is made of trust and love. I–I think it is – never would be – something you would understand. No offense," Xan said, stuttering.
Trust and love ... of course, such concepts were not extended to drow. How could Viconia forget? In the Underdark, there was no such thing as trust and love – only misguided feelings and emotions. That she felt like she owed him something she couldn't quite repay in gold already annoyed her, let alone the idea of trust and love.
Xan extended a hand to her then. Viconia took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Letting him lead her out of his room in silence. She supposed the elf was going over and beyond the call of courtesy when he walked her back to her own room, holding her hand somewhat limply this time.
After Viconia had unlocked her door, she turned to him. "At the very least, could I bid you good night with a kiss to thank you for all that you did today? I recall this being a surface practice of sorts."
Xan swallowed again. "If-if you wish."
She stepped up to the elf, raising her hands towards his face as he held his breath. Gently, she tucked his hair behind his ears as she looked deep into his eyes, like how she had seen him do so when reaching into another person's mind.
From the tip of his long ears, she ran her fingers over his earlobes slowly, making his blue eyes widen and blaze, then trailed down his cheeks. One hand slid down to his neck then all the way to the back, as the other came to a pause at his jaw as she tipped her own face up.
She pulled Xan towards her and their lips met.
This time their shared moment lasted longer, long enough for Viconia to drink in the warmth and softness of the elf's lips against hers, and his warm, shallow breath. As the moment lingered longer than was necessary, she felt his hands tighten around her waist.
It was also long enough for Viconia to discern that she had bent the enchanter's will to her own, however he may deny it. Though it seemed so strange that being gentle, tender, and, perhaps one could say pure, could feel - be – so much more intense than the brutal, carnal force she was used to, she had found another way to breach the defenses of a male.
And confirm what she so often thought: Surfacers can be so stupid.