Silent Screams and Secret Whispers
Twenty sixth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
Star Day festivities of Lord Yaznak zo Pahl, Meereen
Morwyn found himself watching the mortals play their games of ribbons, fruit and too-sweet wine under the sun almost unbearably dull. What were they even celebrating? Something about the star that supposedly led their ancestors here from Old Ghis whom none now recalled the placing of? The tale of the colony's founding had retroactively become one of a bold exodus from the doom of their homeland. The drow mage wondered briefly what they would say if they knew that among them were watchers older than even their oldest of cities. What would they say if he whispered close: 'I remember a time when you cowered in caves by night and barely dared come out by day to shit in the bushes.'
Scream probably, those presented with their own insignificance always screamed for some reason. Perhaps it was to drown out the knowledge from their minds.
Morwyn wanted to scream.
What he
needed he knew was a drink, even the accursed honey water that passed for intoxicants in this damned city would be better than the sudden rush of vertigo, of
weakness in the face of the open sky and the writhing city filled with mortals living their lives wholly unknowing and uncaring of everything he was.
An assassin's dream... he thought distantly. It had not hit him when he was working before.
Think of something else, the words snapped through the haze that was threatening to envelop him. He was not some mewling slave to let pain show on his face, bring him to his knees.
Jezhene, for some reason the face of the girl who did not have nightmares, or at least had the wit to lie about it convincingly, flashed before his mind's eye. The witch he was trailing claimed to be her mother.
What had she done with the real Zigila Pahl, he wondered. One of the many questions they could not answer because the creature was warded against divination. Hags had a taste for the flesh of thinking beings. For some reason the natural inference offended the drow. Bones should be gathered in an ossuary, not cracked for marrow like some troll's feast.
It was only then that he realized he had been assigning the
value of drow, drow
nobles at that, to the fates of mortal men. Tuin would laugh himself sick if he knew. Quickly the assassin looked around the room, his eyes falling upon a grey-haired man with a absurdly large garret hanging above his brow from a golden chain, like some kind of glittering growth. He imagined killing the man. It would be easy as breathing... meaningless.
So it was only the girl, still absurd of course, she was still mortal, he had only met her a handful of times since that day in the fighting pit, but she had been quick and clever, not a weeping mess everyone had insisted she
should be. Perhaps she was never supposed to be a mere mortal, some more exalted soul, perhaps she was supposed to have been a drow and was cursed with frail mortal flesh from the imbalance of the Spheres. Stranger things had happened.
Of course, that did not mean he owed anything to the Jezhene's mother or her corpse as it likely was by now.
"I wonder how my parents are dealing with my absence. If they're..." She had not said the last word, she did not have to.
He followed the witch on soft and silent steps under the cypress trees. Fey were barred from this part of the gardens, the shadow-spinner had said. Morwyn was no fey, but his ears were as sharp as one of that kindred and he listened most closely.
"What do you mean you can't find the little bitch? Who would waste veils enough to hide from the eyes of Asmodeus on her, there is no way they..." The angry words were spoken not in any mortal tongue, but in Infernal. "Lying snake."
"Take care with your accusations little
traitor," the second speaker said in tones of silk and steel. A devil likely as not. "You may have sold your court to us for a fair profit, but there is no one you can betray Baator to. We are not
fleeing."
There was a soft hiss of displacement in air and the faint smell of brimstone.
Hidden behind the rustling leaves the assassin smiled, but he did not allow himself to contemplate the fate of the hag for long. There was still work to be done. Turning on his heel Morwyn set out in search of the dragonblood mage, wondering all the while what he would make of this.
What do your agents do next?
[] Try to discover why her would-be suitor and now the hag are interested in Jezhene Pahl
[] Attempt to ascertain how an entire fey court could have fallen into the claws of Asmodeus
[] Write in
OOC: Morwyn has panic attacks from the isolation and general horror of his situation, but he cannot even acknowledge them to himself properly because of how the society he grew up in worked. As seen above his newest coping mechanism is declaring the girl he rescued last month an honorary drow in his head so he feels less alone. Of course, that hardly makes him any less of a cold blooded murderer to the world at large. The next update will be the last from Ghis this month since the interlude timeline is getting towards the end of the month.