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Saga 15- Trust Issues


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#1 Guest_Daie_*

Posted 23 May 2006 - 03:51 PM

We’d been at the tavern for at least an hour before she asked the question. No, not marriage. Who do you think we are? No, she asked of my past. My family, city, childhood. I brushed through my childhood, knowing it to be uninteresting, but she seemed interested enough, so I slowed down when I reached my elder years. I told her of my family, my strange, crazy, dysfunctional family. My mother who always has her nose buried in a book (curiously, this idiom caused her to laugh. Drow do not ‘bury themselves in books’ apparently), and who speaks several languages, the woman who taught me.

I told her of my father, who taught me of the Seldarine, and who almost disowned me when I adopted Selune’s faith. My father who gave me countless lectures on how my antics in the city were bringing the family into disrepute, yet who thrashed a man to within an inch of his life for striking me.

My father’s family, strict puritanical elves who saw me as chaos personified, and my mother’s family who adored me, and even my cousin Rynthalion, someone who could give Maron a run for her money in the practical jokes department.

I even told her of my other cousin, Illian, a paladin of all things, and the avatar of boring. She fully shared my distaste of paladins, and told me of how she had been persecuted when she first emerged from Below. Then she told me something I’d never known: She hadn’t come up alone. Her aunt and younger sister had come too. I was intrigued, and pressed her for more details.


***

“You think I made the trek alone, darthiir? Nay, my aunt Ilphthrae, and my sister Mindiira came with me to the Light.”

I am surprised, I had assumed she was alone on the Surface, but it seemed not. Her aunt and sister are also clerics of Eilistraee, and her aunt ranks higher in the clergy than her. Both of them serve in a temple near Waterdeep, in a place I’d never heard of, Skullport. It sounds sinister, but she assures me that it is not as ominous as the name sounds, at least, not for someone as feared as a drow. She tells me that she sees them only a few times a year, when either her or their business brings them close and that it has been a few months since their last meeting.

I hesitate before asking her why she had left the Underdark, what had convinced her to leave her home for this place the drow believed worst than their nightmares. This confuses her; she had no concept of nightmare. After I explain, she puts me right.
“Daie, the drow do not dream.”
“Never?”
“Only as children. By the time you reach adulthood, you suppress them, and eventually they come not at all.”
“Why would you want to stop dreaming?” I can’t understand this at all. Even in reverie I dream, and the idea of not dreaming seems as bad as not thinking. How can you live without dreams? Perhaps I am influenced by the fact that I’ve been dreaming about Raven for a while now.

“We are never told, but my aunt had a theory. She said that dreams would affect the drow mindset. If you had to see the faces of your victims by night, how could society function?”
“So you remove dreams to allow further murder?”
“Yes, darthiir” she is quiet, her eyes downcast. It seems that some foul memory is plaguing her, and I slip round the bench to sit next to her. I lay a hand on her shoulder, and she surprises me by seizing it, and gripping it so tightly I expect my bones to crumble. Still, I allow her to continue, and after a moment she eases her grip, and looks to me, her eyes full of tears. She remains silent, just watching me, and I decide that a subject change is on the cards.

“So, did you see Aerith?”

She wouldn’t have any of it, and continued her previous topic.

“I had such dreams as a child.”
“Easy Raven” I try to soothe her, her eyes fill with more and more tears, and it is only a matter of time before she begins to cry, something I have no wish to ever see again. In my family, no-one ever cried, and so seeing someone weep makes me uneasy, and to see the proud Raven cry would turn my world upside down.

She looks straight into my eyes, her own crimson orbs blurred with the remembrance of a joy lost, one that I have cruelly reminded her of. I steel myself, and pull her into my arms, feeling wretched for having hurt her again.
“Darthiir, leave me. I must be strong.” She murmurs into my shoulder, and tried to push me away. I’m confused; she’s much stronger than me, but her push is feeble, and doesn’t even break my grip. When she grabs my shoulder with her other hand, I realise that she doesn’t want to break free.
“Raven, I think we’ve had enough here, shall we go?”

She remains with her head in my shoulders for a while before she lifts it, and sniffs. She looks back at me, and the tears have gone, though my shoulder is soaked. She smiles warmly, and kisses my cheek.

“It seems I have much to thank you for this day. Still, I apologise for my weakness. You were asking about Aerith?”
At my nod, she continues.
“Well, we have a new task or two, and one that requires my own attention. A nobleman requires a group to fetch an item he lost on a hunt. His group were chasing a stag through a forest near the city when they were attacked by a large group of wild monsters. They fought clear, losing a few hunters, but the nobleman lost his lance, a magical family heirloom. He will pay well for its recovery.”

“Why do you need to go?” I ask, perplexed. The task sounds simple enough. Perhaps the monsters are particularly dangerous, a thought which fills me with fear for her. “Will it be dangerous?”

“Perhaps, but I wish to go simply because it has been a while since I undertook a task like this, and I am beginning to miss the life.”
I nod, understanding now. I haven’t seen Raven in true combat before, and I wonder how skilled she truly is. Lately, I have been getting the feeling that our sparring match was merely the result of surprise on her part, and judging by her air of confidence, I imagine a rematch would lead in my defeat.

“Daie, you will come with me.” Her tone brooks no argument, she reasserts her authority easily.

I nod, and my smile shines through, so she kisses me to remove it.
“I will bring Maron and Minstra with us, and leave Aesine and Tycho in command.”

To this, I have no response. I can hardly tell her that I agree; I have not part in the command of the company, and showing my approval simply because I have become her partner would be the worst kind of presumption.
She obviously knows what I’m thinking, because she smiles back at me, and runs a hand through my hair.

“Come, the afternoon wears on, and we should return soon.”

Keeping my hand in hers, she leads me from the tavern, repeatedly looking back at me over her shoulder, before running into Maron and Minstra just outside the tavern. Raven was looking over her shoulder at me, and therefore didn’t see Minstra before she walked straight into her.

I panic for a moment, my eyes wide, wondering how we will get out of this one. Maron and Minstra have both seen us leaving a tavern, her holding my hand. Minstra raises an eyebrow, and Maron folds her arms and smiles.

Raven interrupts them before they speak.

“The darthiir is drunk, I have to help him.” Releasing my hand, she instead wraps an arm around my shoulders. I am both amazed and impressed by her audacious idea. Not only does she manage to pull off the lie, but she manages to increase our physical contact. Now, all that remains is for me to complete the subterfuge with a little acting. I buckle my knees slightly, and slur my words, waving my arms in a pretty good impression of drunken greeting.

“Helloo Minshtra, hellooo Marrrrron. I found pretty mish Raven in the tavern, and deshided to join for ferra drink.”

Minstra sighs, while Maron doubles over with laughter. “How much has he had?”

Raven adopts an air of mild annoyance; at least I hope she is pretending; she may still be angry for my earlier arrival. “He was in the tavern with Skip and Tycho before he found me.” That wasn’t even a lie. My amazement increases, but I suppose flawless lying is a drow skill.

She pretends to half carry me back to the gates, where Minstra forces me to drink another sobriety potion. I now stop acting drunk, and am halfway to the camp when Raven leans close.

“That was brave, darthiir.”
“Why?”
“Taking those potions when sober gives you horrible stomach cramps.”
My eyes widen in horror, and that’s when they hit.
The rest of the journey was a blaze of pain. Raven and I both kept trying to cast healing spells, but Maron and Minstra kept talking to us, distracting us from our task, and it’s not until we arrive back at the camp, and I stagger to my tent that I finally am able to stop the feeling that my stomach is carving its way from my body.

I’m lying down with a damp cloth over my forehead when someone enters the tent, and I hear Raven’s calm voice, and feel her cool hand on my cheek.

“How are you, Daie?”
“Fine” I reply, manfully. In truth though, while the main pain has gone, echoes of it still turn my stomach. Minstra and Maron think I’m suffering a hangover, and find it hilariously funny, I could hear them laugh as I groaned earlier.

She sees through my lie and cooes sympathetically, taking my hand in hers.

“Daie, thank you for this. You’ve been through a lot for me over the last few days, and I am grateful.”

I can hear how difficult this is for her, and sit up, the cloth falling from my face.

She takes my hand, and lays me back down, running a finger over my cheek.

“I just want you to know how grateful I am.”

As she kisses me again, and lies next to me, I suddenly realise where this is going. When she begins to remove her tunic, my doubts flee.

“Raven, wait! I’m, I can’t, I mean I’m still not ready!”

She sighs, and sits back up. I follow her, worried.

“Raven, I’m sorry.”
She sits for a moment, before laying a hand on my shoulder. “I understand Daie, really I do.”

Once again, I’ve completely mishandled the situation, and my sigh echoes the one in my heart. I take her hands, and smile sadly.
Even though she claims to understand, I can see confusion in her eyes. She still thinks I’m rejecting her, and a cruel voice in my mind tells me that I am. When next I lie down, I gently pull her down with me, and embrace her. She lies stiffly for almost a minute, before she wraps her arms around me, and allows herself to relax. I see that I am not the only one with trust issues here.

She pulls my head to her chest, and rests her own head on the top of mine, and we lie there until I slip into reverie to dream, and her to sleep, to oblivion.




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