Their first day in the Underdark had been...eventful. Too eventful, with a pair of wild minotaurs coming close to delivering death unto the party, who had survived war with an army of goblins on the surface just days ago. Perhaps it was sheer spite that fueled their refusal to die, but they'd pulled through; Gale and Wyll blasted one minotaur off a ledge with combined spells, while Lae'zel leapt high to bury her sword in the other beast's skull despite a twisted knee.
They were battered, bloodied by that single encounter, yet drank only one potion each to conserve their stash, while Shadowheart healed the most grievous injuries with spells. Judging them too bruised to continue, Solistre had found a secure, defensible nook against a rock wall for the party to make camp.
When the bickering started, Solistre slipped away.
Her boots never make a sound as she picks a path through the darkness with ease, ears twitching with every sound that drifts from the campsite. Her companions are tolerable on the surface, but her patience has been stretched thin since they took their first steps underground, and she realised she has with her a posse of bumbling fools who'll navigate the Underdark with the grace of drunken trolls. Where her people would glide from shadow to shadow as second nature, these surface dwellers would declare their positions with every step they take – and her fears took form when the minotaurs had found and descended upon them easily.
Voices carry to her ears, and Solistre clenches her jaw. She weighs her options, admits with defeat that her chances of overcoming the tadpole are better with those fools around, and turns back. Solistre retraces her steps back to camp, but pauses when she spots Shadowheart following a dirt trail below hers – the cleric is alone, unlike Wyll and Gale who has ventured in the opposite direction together. Her eye twitches at the thud of Shadowheart's boots against the ground – the half-elf is usually one of the most light-footed in the group – and Solistre steps into the shadows, materialising just before her companion.
Shadowheart's reaction is immediate – one hand grips the handle of her mace, while the other flares with blinding magic. She has sunk into a combat stance when she realises it is merely Solistre, and relaxes with a roll of the eyes.
"Careful, or I will hurt you one of these days."
Solistre cocks her head, as Shadowheart dissipates the magic in her hand. This is hardly the first time she has surprised Shadowheart – and everyone else – by emerging from the very shadows. Only Lae'zel had come close to lopping her head off in shock.
"Where are you going?"
"Nearby. I want to get my bearings." Shadowheart's affected nonchalance is broken when her lips curl down – they can hear Lae'zel's irritated bark at Astarion. "And that gith is being insufferable. Anywhere away from her is good enough for me."
Solistre crosses her arms, then her eyes fall shut in exasperation when Wyll's panicked shout echoes through the cavern, accompanied by the tumble of falling rocks. His laughter follows after a moment of silence, then quiets after an unintelligible murmur from Gale.
"They are so loud," Shadowheart whispers.
"So are you," Solistre adds, earning an indignant glance. "Follow me. We'll scout together."
"What, think I can't handle myself?"
"Exactly."
She moves off without another word. Solistre takes a handful of paces alone, before Shadowheart follows her with a reluctance so palpable, so expected, that it nearly makes her smile.
With Solistre in the lead, they follow paths that dip, rise, and curve, weaving natural roads around and away from one another. Solistre picks slopes that bring them ever higher, and her legs bear a mild burn when they reach the crest of a rock arch. Raising a hand, Solistre motions for Shadowheart to stop, her partner's deeper breaths just barely audible in the Underdark's silence.
Hands on her hips, Solistre looks out from their vantage point, then gestures at a clearing in the distance, dotted and lit aglow by clusters of luminescent orange mushrooms.
"Torchstalks. They'll explode when you get too close. Dangerous when they grow this tightly together." She hums a flat note. "We could skirt around them, but I see no other way down."
Solistre frowns, leaning forward by a fraction, when she detects slow, shuffling figures behind the mushroom clearing. Bipedal silhouettes with large, wide-brimmed heads.
"Myconids? That means a colony is nearby."
Shadowheart takes a step forward, squinting into the distance. "How are you seeing so–?"
The ground quakes, and the ledge under Shadowheart's foot crumbles.
"Shit–!"
Solistre darts forward and clamps an arm around Shadowheart's waist, yanking her backwards and down, forcing her to fall awkwardly onto her backside. She hushes Shadowheart sharply when her partner starts to speak. Solistre's eyes follow the clouds of dirt left in the wake of a bulette's passage through the path below the arch.
She frowns, watching the bulette stick its head above ground for a moment, before burrowing away again. This one had appeared just as a minotaur leapt into their midst, but thankfully slipped away without joining the fray. Then it appeared once more while they were setting their packs down to make camp, rumbling in the distance before diving away again.
Is it agitated, Solistre wonders. Have they stumbled into its territory and provoked it? No, more likely that it was already bothered by the minotaurs' presence. Perhaps by the myconids as well, if her eyes had seen true.
Head tilted in thought, minutes pass before Solistre feels eyes on her. She glances aside, and finds Shadowheart staring at her out of the corner of the eye. She puzzles for a moment, then realises her arm is still locked around Shadowheart's waist. She lets go immediately, rising to her feet as Shadowheart does the same, patting dirt from her armour.
"That thing – a 'bulette', you said before? Seems dangerous."
Solistre nods. "We'll have to be careful. Avoiding it would be best."
A wave of the hand, and Solistre leads them down from the arch. With no destination in mind, merely a desire to be apart from the others for now, she wanders about carefully, identifying what edible fungi grew here, and pointing out features of treacherous footing to Shadowheart for her own knowledge. The trek is uneventful, and eventually, Solistre comes to a stop at the edge of a cliff overlooking the inky black waters of a lake in the distance. Having found a water source, a knot in Solistre relaxes, and she decides they've wandered far enough for now.
"You can head back, if you want." Solistre glances at Shadowheart. "I'll stay here a little longer."
Solistre sits on the ground, legs dangling over the edge as she reaches for a pouch on the back of her belt. Shadowheart stands still beside her, as if in hesitation, before taking a seat as well. There's a mute crackle of parchment as Solistre retrieves a packet of biscuits from her pouch – a gift from a tiefling baker who'd thrust it into her hands, stumbled over his words of thanks, and nearly tripped over himself in his haste to leave her and rejoin the celebration. Solistre had neglected to mask her drow features when they'd first entered the druid grove, caught up in their hurry to seek shelter before another goblin assault. She'd traveled openly since then, with tentative acceptance from the tieflings, and found some pleasure in watching others lose their nerves in varying degrees around her.
A faint smirk quirks the corner of her lips, as she takes a bite of square, buttery biscuit, then offers the open packet to Shadowheart. Her companion stares at it for a fleeting second, then takes three pieces for herself.
Munching on the snack – which is well-baked, Solistre admits – they fall into companionable silence, reminiscent of their night by the waterfall. Except there isn't a subtle drunken haze to soften their inhibitions this time. Just as well; in their mutual disinclination to share about themselves, Solistre has found an unspoken affinity with this half-elf. Oddly enough, this same understanding was what led to their little heart-to-heart that night. Even if Solistre still blames it on the alcohol.
"You're very comfortable down here."
Solistre cocks her head. "It's where I–"
'Belong', is what she wanted to say. But she finishes with, "–grew up."
Shadowheart's glance is proof enough that she didn't smooth over the tiny lapse well. She averts her eyes, hiding a wince, and is grateful when Shadowheart speaks again.
"Well, it's still impressive. I'd hate to think about the lot of us wandering down here without you."
Solistre snorts softly, and contents herself with another biscuit.
"Do you know how far Menzoberranzan is from here?"
She stiffens, then forces herself to relax. "It's well over a week from here. Maybe two."
Shadowheart tilts her head. "Would you want to visit?"
Solistre's jaw clenches, and she busies herself with the water canteen, taking her time to unscrew its cap. She takes a sip, then another to soothe a throat gone dry, and replies with a simple, "No."
"Why not? The way you spoke about it...sounds like you miss it a lot."
I do. With every cursed beat of my heart, I do.
Taking one last sip from her canteen, Solistre sets it down with a sigh. "Ask any more questions, Shadowheart, and I will ask for something in return."
A wry smile curves Shadowheart's lips. "What can you ask for? I probably don't remember anything worth a trade."
"On the contrary," Solistre replies drily, recalling that githyanki box she'd caught Shadowheart fiddling with. "You'll never know what has value to another. Besides...information is not the only currency I deal with."
Shadowheart meets her gaze, eyes alight with amusement. Solistre holds the contact a moment longer, then smirks, and looks back at the lake beyond.
"Let's say I do ask more questions. What would you demand in trade?"
"That depends on what you ask. The more you desire, the more I will take."
"And if I want to know everything?"
"Then I will take everything in return."
Solistre looks to her companion, finding curiosity and the glint of a challenge in Shadowheart's eyes, where hesitation would be more prudent. This audacity sends her heart into a quicker beat, and for the briefest moment, she wonders what Shadowheart possesses that she can revel in taking.
With a subtle breath to calm herself, Solistre wears a crooked smile to match her companion's.
"Now you're making me wonder," Shadowheart says, a lilt in her voice.
"Careful you don't wonder too much. What is it they say? 'Curiosity killed the cat'?"
"Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back."
A rare laugh rumbles in Solistre's throat. "We'll see then, won't we?"