Reverie
Lysara sprinted into the inn, throwing the door open and drawing every eye in the place as she looked around the common room and stepping further in. Worry was building in her, over Imoen, and over herself…
"Heya," Imoen called cheerfully from a table, completely devoid of a 'new air hole' or shopping goods, for that matter, though she had bought herself some more 'mage' looking robes – they were still in her favorite purple, and showed more of her chest than Lysara would of her own - and a quarter staff was leaning against the wall next to her. Her book was on the table in front of her, propped open as she ate and read it at the same time. "How did – whoa."
Lysara pounced her friend, hugging her tightly. "By Lathander, Imoen. I was scared I'd lost you, too," she whispered to her.
"Ease off, Lys. What are you talking about?" Imoen replied, trying to gently extract herself from her friend's grip.
Lysara took a moment to compose herself, then sat next to her and explained, quietly, about the bounty hunter and her threat. All trace of good humor evaporated out of Imoen long before she was done.
"Just be careful, Lys. I can handle myself, trust me. And I'm touched you were ready to… do that… because someone said they'd offed me, but promise me you won't, ever again. I don't want to see you degenerating into…" she paused and looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping, but leaned in close anyway, "one of your other… kin."
Lysara drew her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them, though she was in a chair. "I want to be a good person, Im. But just then… I didn't even realize…"
"It would be a better idea not to discuss such things in a common room," Jaheria supplied, simply sitting at the table. "We will discuss this when we've a room."
"I got us two," Imoen said, back to her usual self. "That was a real feat since there're only four to begin with. You and your husband can have one, the rest of us girls will take the other."
"That was most considerate of you," Jaheria replied, "but I had intended…"
"Oh please. Go, enjoy laying in your husband's arms for a night. I don't think I've seen you two so much as hug since we met," Imoen insisted.
"Thank you, Imoen," the druid relented with a grateful smile.
"You're welcome."
"The woman you were just speaking of has been… incarcerated," Jaheria told Lysara. "Do not concern yourself over her further."
Imoen had apparently ordered them dinner as well. As soon as Khalid and Viconia has seated themselves, a large plate bearing a roasted duck and varying fruits and vegetables and such was deposited on their table. Dinner was a quiet affair. Imoen just looked thoughtful the whole time while Jaheira and Khalid were whispering to one another whenever the former wasn't looking at Lysara in a manner both considering and sad; Viconia never took her eyes off the younger elf. Lysara herself just turned inward and refused any attempt to engage her in conversation.
"You think you've got it bad, dearie," the waitress who brought their meal said, "Why we've gotta live here. If war breaks between Amn and Baldur's Gate guess who'll be caught in the first salvo… us. Yeah you've got problems, but ours are worse, believe you me!" The woman was off before anyone could reply.
Lysara just stood up once she was full, which didn't take much. She didn't seem to have much of an appetite as she silently walked down the hall towards the women's bath. Before she'd even quite made it in, she witnessed Jaheria pulling Khalid quickly towards one of the guest rooms, apparently taking Imoen up on her offer without delay. That she was so aggressive… that way… was really no surprise to Lysara. After all, she'd been aggressive and domineering in almost every other way since they'd met.
Or maybe they were cloistering themselves up to discuss reconsidering the possibility of simply killing her. She might even welcome it, if her death meant that all this would just go away. Why did it seem to follow her around? Her passage certainly did seem to be sewing chaos. Koveras? Who was he? Why had he killed her father? Why did he want to kill her? These questions and a thousand more cycled through her mind as she undressed for the bath, joined by Viconia before she'd quite gotten her blouse unlaced and Imoen came in before she'd quite shimmied out of her trousers.
A piping hot bath after two weeks on the road – wherein she was lucky to have a chance to wash – felt glorious. Why was it that the stories of heroes and adventures that she'd always liked so much glossed over inconvenient points like not bathing and bland rations when you weren't running out of food or drinkable water? Soaking in hot water even managed to take the edge of her worry over… whatever had happened earlier. She'd been deaf to the world after that nameless woman had told her Imoen was dead… had she even said that? Was her cursed blood playing with her mind in an effort to have its own way? It was a morose and thoroughly depressing thought. Fortunately the three of them were alone, except when the maid came in – always knocking first – to see if they required anything else.
"So what do you think they're planning?" Imoen asked after they'd been soaking for a time.
"Hmm?" Lysara replied groggily.
"Well, I know what they said about… your father. But I just can't make myself believe them. You're too good a person to be… his… child."
"I don't know, Im. I've got some pretty dark shadows. I just try my best to keep them… y'know, hidden."
Viconia, who had been so quiet after slipping into the water that Lysara almost forgotten she was there, scoffed. "What do you know of darkness, dalhar?" the drow inquired contemptuously, "You grew up in a library surrounded by protectors who sheltered you from anything which would make me so much as shiver."
"Dalhar? What's that?" Imoen asked.
"It had better not mean 'child'," Lysara put in.
"And what exactly would make a drow 'shiver'?" Imoen continued before anyone could answer.
"I would tell you, but I know what to expect from Lysara to anyone who causes you harm," the drow replied, ignoring the vocabulary question. "I haven't seen anyone so protective of another they weren't 'with' before."
"What exactly does that mean?" Lysara asked.
"I doubt you would like the answer," Viconia replied evasively.
"I'm sure I wouldn't," Imoen replied, a touch of fear in her voice as she started cleaning herself more hurriedly.
"What?" Lysara pressed, picking up on… something… and feeling annoyed at the secretiveness.
"Have you never considered laying with another woman?" Viconia asked Lysara directly.
Lysara blinked, suddenly uncomfortable. "It's… something that's crossed my mind once or twice," she replied hesitantly, "but not something I'm likely to actually try."
Out of the corner of her eye, She saw Imoen looking near-panicked now as she started to furiously scrub herself down. What was wrong with her? Lysara had never seen her friend so scared-looking, except immediately after that crossbow bolt had been pulled out of Lysara's shoulder.
"Yes, I didn't think you were that kind," Viconia replied, laying back in their shared tub and closing her eyes. "The way your knees weaken for a good-looking male… especially that paladin. Why do you not just find one to amuse you for a time?"
"Our kinds do not treat sex so… irreverently," Lysara replied, squirming uncomfortably. "Being with someone is a sacred act that should only…"
"More surface platitudes," Viconia interrupted dismissively. "If you want something, someone, take it. Take them. That is the only way you will get what you desire. You feared the retribution of that paladin's… wife…" her mouth twisted distastefully around the unfamiliar word, "Yet it is unlikely that you and she would ever come face to face. I or any of my sisters thus enamored would simply do as we wished with him in the same situation."
"I didn't fear retribution. I feared hurting them when the truth inevitably came out. You would not even have cared, would you?" Lysara retorted, feeling disgusted.
"Why should I care what impact my actions hold over someone I will never meet; or someone who I will likely never meet again, for that matter?" the drow answered. "You seem to think I am some sort of 'good person' beneath the surface. I am drow. Do not forget it."
Imoen was shaking her head, looking a little more relaxed at least. Then she dunked it underwater to wet her hair, coming up and shaking it again. Viconia eyed her in an almost considering manner, like a woman trying to decide if the steak was done enough for her liking. Lysara didn't like it at all. Then she moved over next to Imoen and handed her a bar of soap and a wash rag, turning around wordlessly and pulling her hair around her shoulders and exposing her back to her.
"You… want me to wash your back?" Imoen asked timidly. Imoen was never timid.
"Of course. Why else would I behave this way?" the drow replied impatiently.
Imoen visibly swallowed before soaping the cloth up and starting to rub the drow's back with it.
"I thought you were a woman, not a mouse," Viconia commented, "Surely you've done this for others you've bathed with before?"
Imoen was actually blushing and cast frequent glances at Lysara, who was feeling increasingly uncomfortable at her friend's discomfort. She didn't understand it. "She's scrubbed mine before," Lysara volunteered, drawing an unappreciative glance from Imoen.
"I thought as much," Viconia replied. "Either you have a very delicate back, or she is holding back now for some reason. My bath attendants scrubbed harder that that when I was twelve. Perhaps you have not told your friend?" The last was directed at Imoen.
"Told me what?" Lysara asked, utterly bewildered when Imoen remained silent.
"That she doesn't enjoy a man's touch at all, of course," Viconia answered for her when Imoen didn't. "That she secretly craves the attentions of women. Likely she thought you would misinterpret that as a desire for your- Ah, that's better."
Imoen had started scrubbing harder, almost violently, and the drow seemed to like it. Lysara was just stunned, staring wide eyed at Imoen's face and finally understanding what Imoen had tried to tell her that night, when she'd confessed about her first time. "Is… that true, Im?" she asked.
Imoen just let the rag fall into the water and cleared her throat, blushing profusely. "I'm sorry, Lys. I never meant for you to find out like this. Or at all, really. And please don't think that I'm sitting here lusting after you, because I really do think of you as my sister and I know you're not… that we're not the same that way." She hesitated a few moments and then added, "You're not… weirded out by me now, are you?"
"Never, Im," Lysara replied with a genuine smile. "You're right, I don't think of women… any woman… that way. But I don't care if you do. It just spares me the trouble of finding you a boyfriend or worrying about you stealing one from me."
That made her friend relax, and smile again. "Why don't you worry about finding yourself one, first?" she quipped, which made Lysara splash hot water at her. "This time make sure he isn't married, hmm?"
The mirth lasted until Viconia turned around and reached for Imoen a moment later. "Uh, hey?" she asked, slipping away in the tub.
The drow smirked. "I assumed that you would be up for a little fun now," she answered. "Or do you not like having an audience?" The last was said with a pointed look at Lysara.
"I… don't… do… that… with just anyone," she answered hesitantly, stammering, and blushing again. "It goes back to what Lys was trying to get through to you earlier. I'm not the sort of woman who does… that… so easily."
"As you wish," the drow replied, slipping back to her corner of the tub. "Though I think I could show you quite a few things about how we could please each other. No? Very well then."
"Why… did you tell Imoen's secret?" Lysara asked a moment later.
"I am drow," she replied cryptically. "How I wish there was a masseuse on hand. I haven't been properly rubbed down in far too long."
"And you're… the same way she is?" Lysara asked curiously.
"Not exactly. I enjoy the company of both sexes," the drow replied in a strangely matter-of-fact manner given what they were discussing.
Privately, Lysara thought that the woman had thought that getting it out in the open would ultimately help improve their relationship. Or perhaps she was just being cruel and trying to provoke Imoen into washing her back more forcefully. Or maybe that the drow was more complex than she looked at a glance and had acted as she did for both reasons and more. She still couldn't decide if that was a diamond or a lump of coal she'd glimpsed, but was determined to keep poking until she figured it out. She wondered if Viconia even knew.
Perhaps she was simply being naive again. She didn't like how people – especially Jaheria – kept calling her that, but she knew that it was at least a little true. Maybe that's why she disliked it so much, but what was wrong with thinking people could be saved from their own darkness? She herself wanted very badly to be saved from hers.
"You acted as if you intended to protect me from the Rashemi… warrior earlier," Viconia said to Lysara. "Why?"
"Because I was going to protect you, if need be," Lysara answered.
A hint of confusion lit the drow's dark eyes as she studied Lysara's face. "Why?" she asked again after a few moments.
"I said I would," Lysara answered simply. "I am not drow, Viconia. If I say I will do something, there's perhaps a better chance than what you're used to thinking of that I will do it for the exact reasons that I said."
"You believe that simply being ibblith means you will keep your word?"
"That's… not exactly what I meant. I know there are dishonest people on the surface. I'm not one of them. You can trust me."
"Trust is for the foolish, and the dead," Viconia reminded her. Or was she reminding herself? Her tone was somewhat less… convicted than it was the last time she'd said it. Lysara hoped that meant that she was making at least a little progress.
Lysara shrugged. "I guess I'm a fool then. I think I'm clean enough," Lysara said, standing up and reaching for a towel.
[-]
Lysara, clad for bed and with her daywear and weapons and such under her arm, was surprised when she learned that she wasn't alone on arriving at her room. Jaheria sat, clad in a dressing robe, cross-legged on one of the room's three beds.
"Sorry, wrong room," Lysara apologized.
"No it isn't," Jaheria replied quickly. "I wanted to speak to you privately before we retired for the evening."
"Is… everything alright between you and Khalid?" Lysara asked, settling down on the next bed. "If that's not too personal a question, that is."
"It's fine. You will know without question if you ask me something that I deem 'too personal' Lysara. Things between my husband and I are as 'alright' as they have been for some time," the druid answered with just a hint of sadness. "We are comfortable with one another, each needing naught from the other but company and support, aid and understanding where required. Sex is just a bonus."
"That sounds more like friendship with… uh, play rights than…"
"Enough. The time for us to speak privately is short, and you tread dangerously close to 'too personal.'"
"Jaheria… what did that bounty hunter say to me?" Lysara asked before the druid could speak further.
"Did you truly not hear?"
"No, and it scares me to no end," Lysara replied, sitting on the bed and trying to stop herself from shaking. "I wasn't even… I didn't know you were talking to me until you had hold of my arm."
"She begged for mercy and swore that she'd only been bluffing, after trying and failing to dispel your hold on her. You really do have quite a bit of power locked beneath the surface," Jaheria told her concernedly. "That your perceptions were so clouded… is troubling."
"No kidding," Lysara agreed, before shaking her head. "Hang power and hang my weapons. Maybe I should toss my it all away and just run off and become a hermit deep in some mountain range where there's no one to hurt and nothing to hurt them with. I can see it now, a nice little cabin…"
"That would solve none of your problems, least of all this 'Koveras' who tried to kill you. Make no mistake, he will try to do so again should a shadow of an opportunity be made to him. I do not believe that you and he can both continue as you are while the other is alive."
"I don't want to kill anyone," Lysara said quietly, drawing her knees up under her chin again. "Not even him. I just… I want to be left alone, you know? I want… I want a home, and man who wants me, who can love me in spite of… this… problem I have. I want kids and…"
"You want a life," Jaheria supplied, moving to sit next to Lysara and rubbing her back consolingly. "I can sympathize with that."
"You can?" Lysara asked.
"Think you that I do not want children? Khalid and I used to speak all the time of what we would do after our adventuring days were done… or at least mine, since age will doubtlessly claim me first. We too, wanted a home, and… and children. But… I am unable to bear any. An injury early in my career that I was lucky to live through," the druid admitted sadly before rallying. "Enough of that. I came because I wanted to say that I understand now why you wanted the drow to come along."
"Do you?" Lysara asked, glad for the change in topic.
"Yes, and it speaks to me of a foolish, naïve waste of time and effort. You want… no you need to believe that anyone can be saved, regardless of their origins, or how dark their background," Jaheria told her, "And so you seek to 'save' that woman from herself. Lysara…"
"Wrong," Lysara interrupted. "It's a good idea, and one that I hadn't even thought of; but that isn't the reason. I don't even know what the reason is. But somehow, despite the way that most of what she tells me about her homeland or even herself disgusts me, and how I find her attitudes deplorable… I like her.
"Oh you're right about me wanting to save her, or at least get her to understand a point of view other than her own. But there's something there, something in her that… I don't know how to explain it. I don't think it's even in my vocabulary to do so."
Jaheria just stared at her, and shook her head. "You like her?" she questioned incredulously. "I had not thought you this foolishly naive. She is drow, child. She is a creature of…"
"Carnage? Chaos? Darkness? Death? Murder incarnate?" Lysara supplied, cutting across the druid with a slight heat to her voice, but nowhere near the temper she'd always displayed back in Candlekeep. Her anger was still there, but it was… quieter, somehow, than it had been back then.
"You prove my point for me. She is nothing like you. She was raised to revel in darkness, debauchery and bloodshed. You were raised…"
"Enough," Lysara said, quietly but firmly. "She is nothing like me? You contradict yourself. You say that I am a good person, but you've just confessed to thinking that evil is in my nature, if not the whole of it. Would she be any different than I am if she were raised on the surface by… let's say for the sake of argument, worshippers of Eilistraee? Or how about in a church of Lathander? Or perhaps in Candlekeep?"
"Now who is contradicting themselves?" Jaheria retorted with an angry sniff even as she looked slightly embarrassed. "You are drawing parallels where none exist, and seeking similarities that would support the argument I have made, rather than your own. And you twist my words. She is a creature of darkness, raised to revel in that darkness. You are a creature of light, born of darkness yes, but of light nonetheless. Any doubt of that vanished when Lathander started answering your prayers. And you were raised rightly, by a good man. You ask what she may have been like had she had your upbringing? She herself has already answered the question in reverse. Remember what she said about you and drow temples?"
"She said I wouldn't even last a minute under… whatever-her-name-was's curriculum," Lysara replied, much more calmly now. "Look… I don't… I honestly didn't think of that as a reason. But maybe you're right, a little at least. But you're also wrong. I refuse to believe that anyone is beyond salvation, and I will never accept it when someone tells me that someone else has to die or…"
She cut off when the door opened, and Imoen walked in, followed closely by Viconia. "Triel Baenre," the latter stated before she sat on the only unoccupied bed, cross-legged like Jaheria. "The Mistress of Arach-Tilinith when I was last in the Underdark was Triel Baenre."
"Huh?" Imoen asked a little perplexedly as she pulled off her robe and slipped under the covers behind where Jaheria sat. "I thought you'd be wrapped around your husband right now."
"I had to have some… private words with your 'sister.' Good night, ladies," Jaheria replied before slipping out of the room.
"Why do you sleep like some sun-blinded human?" Viconia asked after Lysara lay down.
"Well, it's what I know. I've slept every night of my life," she answered, turning over to face the dark-skinned woman.
"Did your parents not teach you reverie?"
"My father… the man I acknowledge as my father, was human. My mother died not long after I was born."
"You were raised by a human… interesting. And who was your… other father?"
"Perhaps I'll tell you, one day, if you stick around long enough," Lysara conceded. "I don't like to acknowledge that… that creature's existence, let alone my kinship with him. He is dead, and that should be the end of it." But it's not, she amended silently to herself, it's only just starting, unless I miss my guess.
"Perhaps I could teach you… to reverie," the drow offered, eyeing her curiously. "You do not even know what it is that sets elves in general – and drow in particular – apart from humans and the other lesser ilk, do you? Like as not you believe that a longer life span and a set of pointed ears are all that makes us special and that underneath we are not so very different."
"Was that your idea of trying to be helpful?" Lysara asked, sitting up now.
The drow shrugged. "If I am to survive on the surface, I must learn the ways of the surface. Do you not agree? Besides, I did cause your friend discomfort earlier. I do not wish your ire; and so I make a small gesture to balance the scales. And then there is the fact that you interrupt my own rest when you awaken screaming from whatever nightmares plague you. Take it or leave it where it lay."
She's has a convenient, pragmatic excuse for every kind act that she does, doesn't she? Lysara thought to herself. And when she can't think of one she just hides behind the fact that she's drow. Does she even really know why she sometimes acts kindly? And just what is her real agenda?
"You don't dream?" Lysara inquired, truly curious and more than a little excited at the though of escaping those horrific visions.
"No," the drown answered simply. "Not when we reverie, though they may still come when we're knocked unconscious."
"Alright, teach me," Lysara replied.
"Sit as I am," Viconia instructed. Lysara copied her posture, and Imoen sat up, looking at the two of them curiously. "Do not bother, human. I've yet to meet or hear of one of your kind capable of doing this. Close your eyes, Lysara, and relax your body. Focus on each muscle group in turn – in time more precise control will be available to you, but this is the basic form – and will each of them to relax. Begin with your feet and work your way up."
Lysara found herself relaxing as the woman instructed, feeling mildly uncomfortable as she realized some of her muscles were more tense than she'd thought. Those took longer to unwind, but eventually she was done.
The drow seemed to know when she was finished relaxing her body, for she continued the moment Lysara felt comfortably limp everywhere but her spine, which she kept stiff. "Envision your favorite place, at your favorite time of day. You are safe there, serene, resting at your leisure or frolicking at your pleasure. Breathe in and out in slow, measured breaths."
Lysara began to feel her fatigue slowly beginning to slip away, though she was still fully conscious, even if her senses were somewhat dulled by the experience.
"Now, will everything to stillness and empty your thoughts completely."
Lysara did as she was told, emptying her mind as if she were preparing for a fight. It was a curious thing. She was far more aware of her body's every nuance than she'd ever been before, from the clean cotton sheets she was resting atop and the shift she'd worn to bed, to the feel of her lungs filling and emptying, even her hair as it tickled her shoulders. She was also aware of her environment, but more dimly than she normally would be. She knew where Viconia was, and was aware of the fact that Imoen had fallen asleep, and that the door and windows were securely closed, even though she couldn't see in Reverie any more than she could in her sleep.
"Leaving Reverie is simple. Just envision your 'safe place' again."
Lysara didn't particularly want to, but she did. Her awareness of her body faded back to normal levels and her external perceptions sharpened once more. Her eyes opened and she blinked several times, looking around and yawning.
"That was… an interesting experience," she commented to her teacher. "You mentioned once that you could commune with your god or goddess during Reverie?"
The drow's smile was a satisfied one. "In time. For now, attempting to multitask your reverie, as you are so new to the process, will likely drain instead of replenish you."
"So is this… what it means to be an elf?" Lysara asked.
"A very small part of it," the drow replied. "Learn the language of your people. Learn to speak it, read it, write it, and think in it. You will never understand your forebears, let alone yourself as an elf, until you can do that."
"Thank you, Viconia."
Her reply was in drow, but it didn't sound hostile. In fact, she thought it sounded almost appreciative.
Lysara thought they were off to a good beginning. She would be gentle, honest and sincere with her new drow 'friend' and make sure to keep every promise without twisting it. That was an important part of her plan to show her what she found to be the appealing part of serving the Light. And if that failed… she'd drag the woman kicking and screaming if she had to.
Lysara just hoped that Jaheria was right about her, and wrong about Viconia.