The Darkest Hour Is Just BBefore The Dawn

Much of the land surrounding BB’s home and place of work is made up of a large field, covered in many flower beds of varying sizes and types.



At the far end of the field are three small flower shrines: each a large smooth stone surrounded by different species of flowers. Two 'special' flower beds sit to the right-hand side of these shrines, covered in protective netting. The front end of the field is where the tent and small, gnome-sized wooden shack housing ‘Big Blue and Bramblethorn's Beautiful Bright Bouquets’ are situated.



The large bell-shaped tent, just behind the shack, is surrounded by potted herbs and flowers with an assortment of wooden chairs and stools providing outside seating. The blue firbolg that attends to this all is knelt by one of the far end flower beds contentedly gardening. She's leaning far enough into the flower bed that her thick mass of long braided silver hair is becoming brown with mud at the ends. She eventually stands up, places her hands on her hips and admires her work, giving a small nod.



Intent on surveying her efforts, it takes her a moment to register the noises coming from behind the tent - the sounds of someone moving about and speaking in a low voice. As a dirt-covered BB cautiously rounds the large canvas structure, she is intrigued to see a figure knelt over one of the newer pots, a large seashell affair she added to the collection last week. A small tiefling - long white-blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, sleeves of her plain green robe folded halfway up lilac-skinned arms - is running a handful of the Feysoil through her fingers and muttering something in a language BB doesn’t recognise. The odd scene is completed by the sight of a huge winged elk standing 20 or so feet away, sniffing lazily at the flowers and flora growing in one of the field’s many beds.



BB walks over to where the tiefling is knelt, waving as she approaches. “Oh hi there, sorry but the soil isn’t for sale. If you’re interested in flowers I certainly have plenty of those.”



The figure doesn’t respond immediately, continuing to mutter and turn the dirt over in her palms. After a moment or two, she pushes herself up to her feet, carefully brushing every trace and remnant of the soil off her skin and back into the pot. She turns to BB with an eyebrow raised and an expression of curiosity on her face.



“Feysoil, eh? Not trying to open a portal to the ‘Wild, are you?”



Now she’s facing BB, the firbolg can see how youthful the tiefling appears to be. Seeming no more than 20 years old, her golden-green eyes are intense and piercing; her posture relaxed but confident. Her almost-platinum hair is tinged with streaks of forest green, a colour matched by the mossy wings of the beast now nibbling carefully at the grass growing over much of the field.



“A portal? You can do that?” BB looks at the soil slightly alarmed. “I’m just using it to grow one of the flowers from Evenbloom Hill.”



The tiefling laughs. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. It won’t be a portal.” She pauses for a moment, head cocked to one side, considering something. “At least, it probably won’t.” She shrugs. “Who knows with Feysoil. It’s tricksy stuff. Anyway, I’ve had a word with it - it should grow into what you want. But keep an eye on it just in case, yer?”



BB kneels down next to her to get a closer look at the soil, and so as to not tower over her so much. “Oh, thank you very much. I’ll try my best. But how are you talking to soil? I can talk to creatures and plants a bit, but certainly not soil.”



“Yer, most people talk to flowers when they want them to grow - but they always forget about the soil. That’s what gives a plant its foundations; helps it grow strong; put down roots. It’s the same approach as with flowers, really: you just gotta speak a bit slower. People think soil’s stupid, like a stone, but you just gotta go at their pace.” She starts to roll her sleeves back down to their normal length. “I spent some time in the Feywild, too; picked up the language a bit.”



“I don’t think it’s stupid, just didn’t think it was listening.” Eyebrows now furrowed as she makes a mental note. “But it is a language then?” BB’s eyes suddenly widen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name!” And extends her hand forward, a wave of deep green magic removing the mud from her skin.



The tiefling chuckles, taking the firbolg’s large hand in her small one. “That’s ok. Soil’s much more interesting than names. But it’s ‘Sunday’, since you asked. And you’re ‘BB’, yes?”



“Yup indeed I am, and nice to meet you. But considering you’re at a flower field and not that interested in buying flowers, do you mind me asking why you’re here, Sunday?”



“Yer, it is a little bit about the language you use.” Sunday replies, ignoring BB’s question. “It’s also a little bit of magic and a lot of patience, with soil. Especially soil from another plane. You’ve really got to know what you’re doing when you start messing about with things from other planes.” She says the last so casually - reaching up to undo and shake out her ponytail - that it takes BB a moment to register what Sunday’s just said. The tiefling’s gaze flickers away from the Feysoil pot to stare directly into BB’s eyes. “You never know what you might bring through the veil.”



“I don’t think you’re talking about soil anymore, are you?” BB almost whispers, and then, as Sunday shakes her head, she sighs deeply, breaking eye contact. “If this is what I think it’s about, then we’re going to need some tea. Make yourself comfy outside or in and then I guess we should talk.” Waving her hand towards the mismatched assortment of chairs in front of the bell tent’s entrance as she ducks inside.



Sunday watches her go before turning to eLk. A moment or two of silent conversation passes between them before he leaps into the sky and takes off in long, slow rising circles. Sunday walks over to an empty chair and plops herself down in the seat. She draws one leg up in front of her, rests her chin on her knee, and closes her eyes. As she waits, a small magpie emerges from one of the flower beds clutching a few chamomile flowers in its beak. It flutters across the field, with a quick glance at eLk above, and disappears into the open entrance of the tent.



A few moments pass until BB reemerges with two clay mugs filled with steaming tea, the magpie now perched on her shoulder. She walks over to Sunday, offering one of the mugs as she sits down opposite her.



“Hope chamomile is okay.” Cradling her own mug, she makes eye contact again. “What do you want to know?”



Sunday leans back in her chair, balancing the mug on her knee. “Why did you do it?”



“Ah. That’s a big question. You’re actually the first to ask it though.” She pauses briefly to look at the surrounding flowers, and then back to Sunday. “Do you want the short answer, or the long one?”



“Is there a meaningful difference?” Sunday asks, blowing on the tea to cool it slightly before taking a sip.



“Perhaps not. When we initially set out through the desert I thought I would have the choice to do it or just leave with no consequences. I set out intending to do the latter. But that changed when we got there.”



She pauses here to also take a sip of tea before continuing, voice a little shaky.



“I did it because I had a choice between potential destruction and certain destruction, I chose the potential option.”



“Destruction of what?” Sunday interposes the question gently.



BB leans down to set her mug on the grass, and as she sits up again she waves her hand in a slow wide arc, encompassing the flower field and New Hillborrow. “This place. The yuan-ti high priest Teoshi and princess Nesali said they’d emerge into this place and destroy it. Those were the terms of the pact if I didn't release the One Serpent. I didn’t even realise I had made the pact until it was too late. Like a naive fool.”



“So you released the One Serpent into this world to save your small corner of it?” Sunday asks, her tone neutral, watching the firbolg closely.



“That’s one way of saying it.” BB’s hands are now in her lap, agitatedly picking at the scarred skin on her palms “But I just couldn’t stand there and bind these people to that fate. I know the yuan-ti tribe make blood sacrifices in their magic, and they always talked about the One Serpent being their way to ascension without the blood and murder. With the murder-less option gone, what if they started the murder option here?”



“You mention options and choice and fate, BB.” Sunday puts her half-empty mug down on the arm of her chair, her voice still measured. “How did you come to decide that this was your decision to make on behalf of everyone else living on this plane?”



“You make it sound like I wanted to make this choice for everyone. I know the consequences of what I’ve done. I know that I panicked. Real bad. I couldn’t convince myself to destroy a home again.” Her eyes unfocus for a second as she seems to recall some memory, then snaps back to the present. “I just cling to the hope that I have a chance to set things right if they go bad, that everything in my power is enough to do that.”



“Do you understand the consequences of this?” Sunday asks. “I’m not sure any of us can just yet… Can I ask, though: are you sorry for what’s happened? For what might still happen?”



“I understand the magnitude of how bad it could become, how much it could affect. But that’s the terrifying part isn’t? We just don't know what’s going to happen.” BB’s voice is more steady, the panic in it fading slightly. “And of course I’m sorry. I’m sorry it got to this point in the first place.”



“Ok, then.” Sunday stands up abruptly, her manner businesslike and purposeful. “Good. Then we can start to put things right.” She glances into the sky, gaze distant for a moment, as though listening for something at the edge of her perception, before looking at BB and saying: “Have you informed the Council yet of what happened and your part in it?”



BB blinks at Sunday’s sudden movement, looking into the sky to try and see what she’s seeing, to no luck, before looking back to her. “Err no I haven’t. Kinda wanted to check in here first, make sure everything was okay. I still need to finish deciphering a book and some artifacts I got from the Astral Temple first, see if they give any information on this situation that could help. But my plan was to give those all to the Council afterwards anyway.”



“Good. I’ll be speaking to the Council during the next tenday.” Sunday glances up into the sky again. BB can now hear the low, faint sound of wings approaching. “It would be better if they heard this from you first, as soon as possible. Might I suggest speaking to them about these items before investigating anything further on your own?” As she’s speaking, eLk glides into view, coasting over the shack and the tent to touch down several paces behind Sunday. “We don’t know what they are or how dangerous they could be. The time for solo projects is probably over, no?”



BB chuckles quietly at that. “Yeah, that’s probably right. I think I've just gotten too used to doing things on my own over all these years.”



Sunday nods. “I get that. Truly.” Her expression is understanding - even empathetic. “But you’re part of a community now. And we help our friends; we don’t endanger them.” She clambers on to eLk’s back. “Whatever you’re looking for - whatever your reasons for this course of action - your friends can help you.”



BB smiles at that, her eyes getting slightly teary “I get that now. Wish I’d realised a little sooner, that it didn’t need releasing a bloomin’ snake god to realise.” She wipes the tears away quickly on her sleeve. “I do love them all truly. My friends. I want to help them and see them happy. Though I’m sure you might find that hard to believe after what I’ve done.”



Sunday makes a noncommittal noise in response, but doesn’t interrupt any further.



“Thanks for coming here and talking to me, I definitely needed someone to ask the tough questions. Wish we’d met in slightly better circumstances, you obviously care a lot about everyone. Though I must admit, I’m not really sure who you are.”



Sunday snorts a laugh. “‘Questions like Why did you release a potentially world-ending snake god into the Material Plane?’ you mean? Not the toughest of inquiries, is it? Pretty fundamental question, if you ask me.” She intertwines her hands in eLk’s mane, who stamps the ground in response, eager to be off. “But you’re right: I didn’t come here for you; I came here for everyone else we share the world with.” She looks at BB, her expression inscrutable. “Markas and most of the others - they say you’re one of the good ones. Maybe they’re right. I’d like that to be true.”



BB sheepishly shrugs as Sunday laughs, but her expression changes to something serious. “I want that to be true too. Hope I can show you that one day.”



Sunday nods briefly. “Don’t show me, though. Show your friends. Show yourself.” She waves towards the seashell pot as eLk starts to beat his wings, lifting them both into the air. “And keep an eye on that soil.”



BB smiles wide at her words, and nods in understanding. As Sunday leaves, flying higher into the sky, BB cups her hands around her mouth and shouts after her.



“Say hi to Markas for me!”



Eventually Sunday and eLk become small dots in the sky as they fly away from New Hillborrow. At this point BB walks back towards the bell-tent, picking up the two clay mugs and placing them inside. She re emerges with a stoppered glass jar containing a bright purple flower, a Feyflower.



“Well she said keep an eye on it, so let’s do just that, Blue.”



Blue moves to perch on top of BB’s head, mimicking Sunday’s laugh as they go.



“No, I’m not gonna just stare at it, thank you.”



BB kneels down next to the Feysoil filled seashell with the glass jar in her hand. She leans her head further forward to get close to the soil, Blue now in danger of falling off, but they stubbornly hold their perch.



She quickly checks to see if anyone else is watching, and then whispers to the soil.



“Hey there. Nice to meet you.”



She pauses, lets the soil take it’s time.



“Just gonna give you a nice new flower buddy, to keep you company. Okay?”



She pauses again, putting her hand on the soil, trying to perceive anything from it. Nothing. Eventually, after a few minutes of waiting, she very slowly starts to make a small depression in the soil. Removing the stopper from the glass jar, she takes out the fey flower and places it in the soil, carefully covering the roots and patting down the soil.



Speaking to both the flower and soil now, she quietly says “I hope you two get along, have a nice time.”



As she re-stoppers the glass jar, still kneeling by the newly planted fey flower, she whispers to herself.



“I hope I’m doing this right.”




Written with Sunday , who graciously left her hammers behind.