Gigi
Approved
5 Cleric of Graves
Posts: 109
|
Post by Gigi on May 13, 2019 21:11:10 GMT
Standing up, riding the high of channeling that amount of healing energy during the point of no return, Gigi took a step back as everyone else came barging in to press forward and check on Pippa's well being themselves. "Yeah, she's fine. A good bit of sleep will take care of any remaining fatigue." She answered Thea's question - keeping the bit of knowledge to herself about the block on the tiefling's life force. It wasn't anyone else's business that there was something else within her. If Pippa wanted to share afterwards? More power to her. But Gigi wouldn't be the one to make that choice. As Dhaunmyr echoed the agreement of sleep and rest Gigi just nodded. To Pippa who gave her thanks? The healer made a slight sour expression and waved it off, "It's what I'm hired here for." Cool, indifferent. Anything to keep her heart rate down so as to not feel the looming blue sepia at the edge of her vision again - and loose someone under her care. Turning her back, the elk was gone for all two seconds she'd heard it bellow, Gigi walked back over to where her cigarette was still smoking on the floor. Picking it up, running a green glow over it to sanitize it, and slipping it back between her lips the healer let the others ensure they were safe. Green energy still fireflied from inside her sleeves like nervous energy, the buildup from keeping Pippa from the other side causing Gigi to fidget. Looking from Thea to Dhaunmyr she gave them each a one over with a healer's eye. Dhaunmyr was holding himself funny, a sign of injury. He wasn't as bad as Pippa had been, obviously, but it seemed he'd taken a hit or so. "Drow." She used the race as if it was his name, "You're hurt too. I can see to it here or out when we made camp, up to you. But I recommend letting me take a peak at some point before we re-enter. No good if you're injured if we come back in."
That was really the question, wasn't it? With the death of the corpses around the room, some fresher than others, and two more room of who knew what? The gnome's research might be placed on hold. Shoving her tingling fingers in her pocket Gigi began to walk around to the corpses, arranging the bodies of the ghouls into something more befitting death, and placed a copper piece in each eye. Care went to the human, Tomas, as well. Above each corpse Gigi summoned a small tongue of sacred flame, no bigger than walnut, to flicker above each corpse. Muttering under her breath what could only be a chant, or a prayer, at each corpse she ignored the rest of the party unless they were determined to get in her way. With each ritual sendoff to the fate beyond Gigi's anxiousness faded. ((At some point during the long rest, Gigi will want to speak to Pippa alone to tell her about the block on her life force. Whether we RP it or just figure out the details of the conversation on Discord I'm down for either way, as long as it happens Gigi will also heal Dhuanmyr with a use of her healer's kit, which he's able to benefit from as it was used before the short rest earlier. We can RP that out here or chat over Discord. I'll roll it here for now though so it's on record, since your posting might be a bit sporadic Dreemie with school <3 1d6+4+Dhaun's hit die count +3 -since I'm 99% sure you are level 3 here- M536_0Pk1d6+7(Current word count: 7,838) 1d6+7
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 13, 2019 22:12:24 GMT
“Ape.” Dhaunmyr hissed out between his teeth. He folded his arms, but not before flicking up both his middle fingers to her in a most adult and mature way. He had given up attempting to be kind, that was pointless now. This creature was too stupid to understand the simplest of nuance, and the most obvious of difference. Drow were evil, wretched beasts that worshipped demons and caused nothing but suffering and brewed hatred.
Maybe Gigi should meet one. They’d get along just fine.
“I’d much rather suffer infection, than have your pestilential hands go anywhere near me, and if you so dare to touch me with those bumbling stubs you would refer to as fingers, I shall show you exactly what I do to those demon-worshipping, misandristic, spider-kissing drow!” Dhaunmyr yelled, throwing his arms into the air. His nostrils flared and his hair was pretty much all over the place. While he was happy to gesture angrily at the creature, he refused to go within ten feet of it, which wore down the intimidation, the anger, just slightly.
He hadn’t meant to start shouting — was it really so loud? Did everyone else hear that? Dhaunmyr cleared his throat, and stalked off to a corner to sulk, where he mumbled to himself, just enough to be heard, perhaps not enough to be understood other than a few words, mostly swears, a fair amount of extremely harsh sounding Elvish, and a few moments of clarity where he went on about his name, what he was, what that meant for him.
What that meant to him.
Dhaunmyr wasn’t a drow. Drow worshipped the Spider Queen, and they were bad people, inherently evil. Dhaunmyr wasn’t good, but he wasn’t actually bad. He was just who he was. Maybe, eventually, he would become good. He wanted to be. But his thinking was, at times, a little backwards, and he was far more interested in himself than anybody else, at any time. And he was Dhaunmyr Vivacity. That meant something to him, that was a title, it was a new trial of life, it was the opportunity to be something other than a consort to a torturing priestess who would always find fault and never let a single thing past her scrutinising eye. Of course, he still wanted to do things perfectly, but, not that perfectly. Not to the point of...
He dug his hands into his hair and shook his head.
|
|
|
Post by Kai Wren on May 14, 2019 17:02:49 GMT
((Okay, I feel like Gigi and Dhaunmyr clearly have IC issues to work through here before heading back into the deathtrap. If y'all are taking a long rest you've got plenty of time to talk that out. The Professor will also drop an infodump, but I feel that should come after the party infighting issues have been resolved one way or another.))
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 14, 2019 17:19:33 GMT
Thea sighed and eased back in relief when Pippa sat up and said she felt like she had a hangover. She grinned down at the tiefling, soft relief filling her face, then looked back at Gigi. “Thank you,” Thea added her voice to Pippa’s. Characteristically Gigi brushed off the thanks with an annoyed look, but Thea was too relieved to mind.
Then - how could Gigi not have realized how much being called drow bothered Dhaunmyr? It was tense enough already; they were all quivering like drawn bowstrings, and Dhaunmyr snapped. He shouted at them all in common, then stalked off and switched to Elvish.
The Professor was leaving, so Thea couldn’t see her face - but from looking around she could see Pippa and Gigi didn’t understand what Dhaunmyr was saying. They couldn’t - couldn’t possibly understand. Thea’s cheeks flushed a dark blue, and she stared at Dhaunmyr, hardly able to believe the vile things coming out of his mouth. It was shocking to see the friendly, polite Dhaunmyr of their journey transformed like this; Thea could only hope that it was a reaction to Gigi, and that these thoughts were ones he didn't usually have, let alone voice.
Thea rose, slowly, leaving Pippa and Gigi behind. “Why don’t you go outside?” She suggested, quietly, looking at Pippa. The tiefling could handle Gigi; Thea didn’t want to speak to her either. She wasn't sure if she could make things better, but she thought she needed to try - that someone needed to try. They had barely survived these first two fights, and the rest of this hellish place still awaited them. Maybe she could find a way to get through to Dhaunmyr, to help him ignore Gigi's rudeness. She'd certainly had plenty of practice these last weeks.
Thea crossed the room to Dhaunmyr, careful not to trap him in the corner. When she spoke it was in Elvish, lightly accented but fluent enough. “She’s angry. With me, I think. It makes her rude. Don’t take it personally.” Carefully, delicately, she reached out to brush Dhaunmyr’s upper arm with her hand.
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 14, 2019 20:39:28 GMT
Dhaunmyr stared up at Thea. She was absolutely not supposed to understand a word he was saying.
He was— clearly in shock. His mouth hung slightly open as he searched for words that didn’t come, and he could do nothing for a moment, that seemed more like a while on his end, but stare at her.
Well, on that bombshell.
He continued in Elvish, at least the conversation could remain a little private, that way. “Did you not hear what she called me? Do you not know what that means she thinks of me?!” Dhaunmyr’s anger tainted his speech, for sure, but his Elvish was harsh, an unfamiliar accent, less elaborate and like a dance of words, more like a raging, rough, stop-start rant. As he spoke, his gestures could almost be confused for the workings of a spell, although, he hadn’t particularly demonstrated terribly much of a grasp on magic.
“I don’t want... I don’t want to be angry with her! I want to be friendly and at least on half-good terms. It is Eilistraee’s will that we live in peace, but — but. She makes it so difficult. I just. It’s not fair! I’ve done nothing wrong!”
|
|
Gigi
Approved
5 Cleric of Graves
Posts: 109
|
Post by Gigi on May 14, 2019 20:43:35 GMT
Unphased at the slur back at her, and even less impressed at the swift words from Dhaunmyr, Gigi focused on sending the corpses off with fire and copper. It wasn't anything she'd not heard before, nor anything different then what she'd heard from her parents. Just replace 'drow' with 'cleric'. As she was finished the healer grabbed her crossbow case from where she'd offered it for use earlier, swung it over her shoulder, and stepped out to start making camp.
She was here to keep people alive, and hopefully erase her debt with Phil. Not make friends.
Friends ended up being something she was responsible for.
And responsibility could always end in death.
Dropping her kit near the wagon they'd taken here the last two weeks Gigi began doing physical labor to help settle the lingering remains of working in the point of no return. She didn't touch anyone else's bedrolls, but she did begin re-stocking the firewood supplies, grabbing tinder, and smoking through her cigarette only to light another just around the edge of their previous campsite.
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 14, 2019 20:49:58 GMT
Thea waited, looking at Dhaunmyr. His surprise was not surprising to her; she was fully aware that he thought no one else had understood him. At least, Thea hoped he had thought no one else could understand him. Or, rather, she really hoped he wouldn’t have said such things if he thought that anyone else could understand him. It was a bit foolish to think none of them could speak Elvish; she herself had learned it in pursuit of selling glass art. She was sure the professor spoke the language as well, based on what Thea knew of her research, but at least it seemed she had been too distracted to listen closely.
The delay didn’t matter; Thea would wait it out. Finally, Dhaunmyr responded. Thea waited, looking at him, calm and patient, letting him say what he needed to say. It was true that he had made clear that he wanted to be called a dark elf, and not a drow. It was also true that Gigi had refused to listen, repeatedly, and he had never reacted like this before.
“I heard an ignorant human,” Thea said, gently but firmly, still in Elvish, “with no social graces. Have you not heard her call Proserpina tiefling, the Professor gnome, and myself genasi? You and I know that it is not the same, but she does not. No matter how many times you have told her, she seems not to be able to learn. That – word, and its usage, is a reflection of her, not you.”
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 14, 2019 21:10:30 GMT
“Ignorant is barely the half of it, but I’d rather she say it to my face than behind my— who am I kidding? I’d rather she kept it to spinning words behind my back.” Dhaunmyr spat out, then closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath.
He got to his feet, placing a sure hand on Thea’s shoulder. He puzzled over words to say, not sure if he wanted to appear still harsh or ultimately forgiving. He knew the right path, he knew what it entailed. How much Dhaunmyr would have to forgive and forget. The pain and suffering he’d endured up until this point... it was easier to completely blow Gigi off and act as though she affected him barely, if at all. But the harder path was acceptance. And that was further endurance, further hardship in his mind.
He must endure.
There were phrases to that effect in traditional Elvish, but they were not of his tongue, not really. The greetings for those undergoing the trials of the Spider Queen were... not appropriate. But there was something, words he didn’t think he’d necessarily speak again, but ones he mustered for the occasion. But he twisted them.
“Your kindness in this moment is appreciated, Althea, my debt to you for it may seem as though it were nothing, but it carries more weight than the mother of the house carries for her children. More than the web before it snaps. But both mother and web of spider do eventually become broken, my dear. Just be aware of that.”
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 14, 2019 21:41:42 GMT
Thea set her hand on top of Dhaunmyr’s, giving him a gentle squeeze. She smiled at him, soft and encouraging, more for the deep breath and the visible regaining of control than for anything else. She wouldn’t presume to give him advice on how to handle Gigi – at least, no further than she had. There was pain on his face. Thea knew almost nothing about his history, about what he had faced to be where he was today. She knew how much he disliked being called ‘drow,’ and his outburst today had revealed a startling amount about why.
None of it mattered. It was clearly a sensitive topic, and anyone with the faintest sense of decency would respect his wishes. Would respect anyone’s wishes, especially when it cost them nothing. Unsurprisingly, Gigi wasn’t capable of it.
Thea raised an arched eyebrow at Dhaunmyr’s choice of phrase, slowly processing it. After a moment, she nodded. She wasn’t entirely sure she understood if it was a thanks or a warning; she wondered if drow spoke like this. Perhaps, down there in the Underdark, there was no difference. Was he telling her not to put him too much in his debt? Not to be too kind? Or was there some deeper, hidden meaning? Or was it all the sort of flowery, ritual nonsense that elvish seemed to be so fond of. All the elves she had ever met were strange about honor and debts; Thea didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
“There is a phrase in Auran,” Thea said, finally, grinning at Dhaunmyr. “It translates, roughly, to ‘May I never need your kindness again.’” She shrugged. “I’d teach it to you, but I doubt you could pronounce it.” She reached out a hand for his, holding it out and open. “Shall we go outside?”
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 14, 2019 21:57:07 GMT
Dhaunmyr had told her that he wasn’t sure how much longer this kind of tolerance, and knowing that he was indebted to someone for the kindness to continue his tolerance would last, although, he wasn’t sure she had understood that. It was the eyebrow and the slow, slow nod, he thought, that did it. But most things could convince him, he supposed, that Thea wasn’t sure what he had meant. He wasn’t desperately forward with his feelings to anybody, if they were any deeper than something easily explained away by circumstances that the person understood completely, without extra help along the way. Sure, Faerveren had ripped off the bandage, but Dhaunmyr was still recovering from that, and it seemed as though it would never really pick up any more than it currently had. Even she didn’t know anything.
And she was a dear, dear friend.
It was pathetic, really, but he swallowed that down, and took Thea’s hand. It would be rude not to take it, he supposed, although, it did briefly cross his mind. The palms of his hands were... he usually didn’t like them being touched, in fact — he drew his hand back, pulled a sleeve out of many over his palm, and pressed it to hers again, before closing his fingers around it. Dhaunmyr refused to look at her while he was fussing with his hands, he refused to look at those, even, he just stared at the wall, until he was done changing things around for comfort.
“Oh please, let me try. If I can manage to become fluent in the words of kuo-toas and the grimlock— oh I’m sure I can manage, in fact, I even bothered to learn the least musical, least interesting language out of them all! Uppercommon!”
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 14, 2019 22:22:08 GMT
Thea realized she’d made a mistake when Dhaunmyr looked uncomfortable and started fidgeting, but it struck her that it would be worse to be obvious about his discomfort. Instead, she also did her absolute best to pretend that there was nothing weird or wrong about him covering his hand with his sleeve before touching her, looking away, and just tried to decide how long she should wait before pulling her hand back.
After a moment, to Thea’s everlasting relief, Dhaunmyr clasped his sleeve-covered palm over hers. Thea did her best to keep her face absolutely smooth, not letting a flicker of discomfort show; instead, she smiled.
“Oh, well,” Thea said, cheerfully, starting back towards the stairs, hoping to get out of the tomb. She glanced over her shoulder as they went, half-worried that another spectral monster would come bursting out of the walls. “I suppose we could try,” she grinned at Dhaunmyr, having switched to Common. “Let’s see. It’s something like this.”
Thea opened her mouth and – something emerged. Auran seemed to be largely composed of breathy exhales and faint whistles that sounded like nothing so much as a gust of wind whispering over a rock. There were perhaps sounds reminiscent of mortal tongues in it – perhaps. “That’s the causal version,” Thea grinned at Dhaunmyr. “Of course, if you want to say it properly,” the next set of breathy, whistling exhales was nearly twice as long. Dhaunmyr could discern that they were different; more than that was hard to say. There was certainly still a sense of wind whistling over a rock, but – perhaps it was a different rock, or maybe even two different rocks?
All the same, Thea would cheerfully teach Dhaunmyr the phrase bit by bit, giggling once or twice over what were apparently particular egregious mispronunciations. The sounds she was able to make were a little beyond the range of most humans; she had no accent in Common, and she spoke Elvish with the usual accent of a human, but this was something entirely different. The attempt would last at least until they had made it back to their little camp, and she would continue the lesson as long as Dhaunmyr wanted.
|
|
|
Post by Kai Wren on May 15, 2019 19:56:17 GMT
Professor Gostlethorn was a shadow of the woman she had been.
On the journey over, she had been nothing but bustle and excitement – sharing stories of her past, her home, her family and her work. Now, she was quiet and withdrawn. She did her part to help. She built the fire after Gigi provided the supplies, and then- she stared into it. For hours.
When she roused herself, it was with a quiet, polite, but utterly insistent cough; delivered to each of the disparate party members in turn, if necessary, along with a simple message.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d like to say a few words.”
In the dead of night, the bright and colourful wagon that was Urbania’s home seemed muted by its owner’s disquiet. The moon hid its face behind clouds, as though ashamed to look down on the scene that had been wrought in terrible tableau. The woman’s face was drawn and pale, her eyes rimmed red and raw.
“Tomas Brindle was a good man.” She said, softly, to the people she had paid for simple, easy work. “Pieter Fellbottom was as well, and I never knew anyone who laughed as hard as Judisia Longstride. We had a dream, you see. We wanted to uncover the true history of this world.”
She smiled, sadly, at the joke of it.
“So much has been lost.” She continued, her voice cracking around the edges. “I made it my life’s work to study what we could find of the oldest elven civilisations, because they are one of the peoples in this world with the longest running history.”
Finally, her gaze lifted from the fire, and settled on Dhaunmyr.
“There are a thousand reasons why the dark elves found themselves underground and forced to the worship of Llolth.” She said, her tone taking on the calm, measured and dispassionate quality she might take if she were lecturing an undergraduate student. “But there are fewer reasons why one might seek the surface, and even fewer why you might be willing to put your life on the line to save others.”
She turned her gaze on the pink-haired Cleric next.
“None of those reasons.” She continued, “Are applicable to One-Who-Betrays. In its most literal form, that is what the term Drow means. It is a term that is loaded with all the sociological baggage of a culture, a civilisation, which has spent its existence in worship of a demon. Dhaunmyr has turned away from that, and labelling him with it regardless means that you are saying you do not see a difference between him, and the monsters who practice cannibalism and institutionalised rape and who have been damned for all time as a consequence.”
Falling into that lecturing, monotone style seemed to do a lot for the Professor. She still seemed as though someone had wrung all the joy out of her, but at least she merely looked as though she were physically and mentally exhausted, rather than in the midst of deep shock or on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“Thus.” She concluded, “Do you think we could use the proper term of Dark Elf, if the name ‘Dhaunmyr’ is too much effort?”
She took a deep breath, then, and looked up at the sky as though she might be able to divine some answers from the lack of stars. The linguistic analysis was over. The brittle edge was starting to creep back into her voice, try as she might to keep it out.
“Because. Calling him, that, is the same as calling me ‘Ghoul’, because… because that’s, what, became of my coworkers. My friends. My, lover. If I’m right about what happened here, it would have happened to me too.”
|
|
|
Post by pastels on May 16, 2019 9:44:23 GMT
Oh, good Lady Lliira, couldn’t the infighting wait until the end of this misadventure? How she wished she played pretend-dead for a few seconds more. Proserpina had barely reached for her lyre when Dhaunmyr erupted into a decidedly vitriolic (and one-sided) row with Gigi. At least she had experience with these kinds of spats—Alkandros often resorted to insults when Eustakhios had pulled enough of his nerves. Many of said insults flew over her baby brother’s head, which angered him further, and oh! If only they weren’t in a godsforsaken temple, surrounded by desiccated corpses. She would feel right at home… down to the budding headache in her temples.
The tiefling shot a look at Thea. The sweet-tempered genasi rose and followed after Dhaunmyr, who had stomped off to the side while muttering foreign-sounding curses.
That left their sour healer to her. Gigi, who had the charm of a pickled gherkin and the gentle mannerisms of an old, battle-scarred warboar. Wonderful. Speaking of which, she was busy setting rites for the mangled bodies scattered throughout the temple. Call Proserpina a fool, but that was hardly the time for a lecture. Any lecture.
When they returned to the Professor’s homely wagon, Proserpina quietly helped Gigi gather firewood. She settled down after that, studiously rubbing down her lyre and fussing at the one string which popped free when it fell. At this hour in the night it would have been a common sight for the others to hear a song or two from the tiefling, but now? She stayed quiet. As most of them did. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly ripe for a conversation… and Pippa, quite frankly, lacked the incentive to make a fool of herself by trying to spark life into dead air.
Later into the night, the Professor interrupted the silence to dedicate a few words to her fallen companions. Then, she addressed Dhaunmyr and Gigi. Proserpina observed the lecture in silence, though her fire-warmed eyes flitted from the former to the latter, studying their expressions. She would have added a bit more but… Well. Nothing else could be added that hasn’t already been said. The Professor could be rather eloquent when she wanted to be.
“What do you think happened here, dear professor?” Proserpina asked instead, voice soft and gently as the whispering flames at the center of their camp.
(Ayy I would really like for a chance to RP out that block scene with Gigi. Maybe soon as the Professor does her infodump? Kai mentioned an infodump.)
|
|
Gigi
Approved
5 Cleric of Graves
Posts: 109
|
Post by Gigi on May 16, 2019 18:01:00 GMT
Listening only with a partial ear Gigi was lying on the ground, back propped up against the wagon that had been brought to circle the campfire. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, jacket shrugged over her shoulders though her arms weren't in the sleeves, and her cigarette firmly imbedded between her lips.
The history lesson essentially went one ear out the other, she didn't care about civilizations, history, arcane secrets, or anything that could be described as 'culture'. Religion, proper religion, escaped her despite her powers stemming from a deity itself. And playing nice and fitting in was a wasted effort. She cared about herself, her outlaw group, and her list of patients she'd accumulated over the years.
"Whatever." She ground through her cigarette, head back and eyes closed. She'd only spoken when the obvious silence indicated the professor expected some sort of response. A lecture was never a way to change someone's mind. If anything? It reinforced their own positions of whatever was at a disagreement to begin with. She honestly didn't care one whit about the reasons Dhaunmyr came to the surface. And she didn't care a half whit to share her own reasons for healing anybody at the expense of her own life. This wasn't summer camp where you spilled your life story around a fire, hugged, and made everything better.
"He won't turn though." Speaking about things she could make a difference about was more up her aisle than humanities. "He's dead, not gone forever just yet, no need to waste your breath on a eulogy." As part of her spiritual rites over the bodies she'd cast Gentle Repose on the corpse of Thomas, not that she was sure anyone was paying attention to her at that point. "I'll cast it again in ten days, so the body stays preserved and doesn't turn, in case he picked up the turning disease. It's up to you if you have the resources to take him to the Apothecary Guild or one of the High Clerics to raise 'im proper without the risk of becoming undead himself."
"The others though?" She shrugged. "I sent them on their way with two coppers each. Best I could do."
Pippa then asked her question and at this Gigi actually perked up an ear to listen. The rooms in there, centering around life, death, and eternity, fascinated her on a personal level. She'd not mentioned, and wouldn't, her almost stepping into the life room while the others had moved on to the death room.
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 16, 2019 18:43:34 GMT
He was quite happy to try the words a few times, managing, eventually, something fairly close. Other than that, he spoke entirely in Elvish, and refused to mutter a word in a language that would be understood by everyone. He felt like it would at least cut him off from Gigi, leave them time to cool off, treat friction burns, but he felt like, deep down, nothing would help. Admitting this would be to admit failure, to admit that he was wrong to think he could ever coexist with Gigi and remain focused, because even after they parted ways, of course he’d think about this. No one had ever been so blatantly... he let the thought slip away, and did his best to keep his mind on poetry, reciting elven verses with a practised tongue. It kept him sane, briefly.
Dhaunmyr was slightly uncomfortable to listen to truths come out from a mouth that hadn’t really been there or experienced it, never lived it, but to have such a better grasp on things than anyone else and... he winced a little at cannibalism, and pretended not to hear the other thing. If he was any freer of mind, he might have clamped hands over his ears and begun to sing the words away, to drown out the poor Professor, but he listened instead, with a rather grim look. Dhaunmyr usually was angry, or happy, or sad, but he was never this sort of... introverted, thinking face. Or at least, he’d never pulled the expression around other people. His hands were limply in his lap, shoulders sagging. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone at all, the most he mustered was to look at his companions’ shoes, if at all.
Mostly, he was staring daggers into the ground.
“I am... so glad. To hear. That you — cannot. For a second. Treat people. Like people. Until they are dead.” Dhaunmyr stressed every syllable. He spat out the consonants, emphasising the plosive nature of them as much as he possibly could, and hissing the sibilance. He paused frequently, shaking again. But not of fear or nerves, Dhaunmyr was holding back everything he wanted to do, everything he wanted to say. It boiled inside him, and his first words in Common since he stopped speaking it were only there to try to release the pressure for a moment.
He couldn’t, however, get the lid back onto the pot. Dhaunmyr rose, and, standing over Gigi, with a weird fluidity to his movements, almost as if he was drunk, as he teetered while even still.
“Is it because they’re the only kind of people that can bear to be around you?” He laughed the whole way through, somehow converting his anger from the urge to stomp her head into the dirt to some kind of sick humour that he found at someone else’s expense, not the best kind, not the most friendly kind. Not Eilistraee’s kind, usually, unless both people were happy to do it.
|
|