2020-04-07 – What lies Stoneleaf – Taffeta & Sunday
Apr 17, 2020 20:04:30 GMT
Ghesh, BB, and 3 more like this
Post by Malri 'Taffeta' Thistletop on Apr 17, 2020 20:04:30 GMT
11th Tarsahk, 1497
Sunday unstraps her belt, letting it - and the twin forge hammers attached to it - drop into the long grass outside the house that the Shortcrust-Thistletop family have recently moved back into. Too tired to unbuckle the armour woven with marram, barnacles, kelp, and other living marine life, she flops down in the grass alongside her gear.
Running a hand through her hair - white-blonde and ever-increasingly streaked through with green; and still growing out from Avernus - she adjusts the simple band of copper to sit more squarely around her forehead. Where once the circlet - hand-woven with sprigs and clippings of purple iris, sage, holly, and lotus flower - sat neatly around the two curling ramshorns that grew during her time in the ‘Wild, now it balances on two much thinner, more delicate protuberances. Sunday has watched with mild interest as they have gradually changed over the last year or so, their lilac colouring increasingly shot through with streaks of bark-brown, and tiny buds and bumps emerging slowly to cover their surfaces..
Her brief contemplation of what this might mean is interrupted, however, by the emergence of Taffeta from the back door of the house.
"So," the halfling says, handing Sunday a cup of cool water and taking a seat next to her on the grass. "Did you get any clues from that dead mind-flayer?"
“Which one?!” Sunday grins. “I’ve got two on ice now. The one we picked up on our little fishing trip last tenday and the one you guys just dropped off.”
"Two! Well, either of them, I suppose, but I was thinking of the one Ghesh lugged back from that place near Stoneleaf a few days ago."
“We’re pretty sure he’s the same one encountered at the turn of the year. When those two people from Daring were killed beneath Stoneleaf. Same markings, same equipment.” Sunday takes a sip from her drink, digging her bare toes into the dirt and earth. “Apparently he was killed middle of casting a powerful spell. ‘Ritual recoil’ Ori calls it. The shock of the arcane blowback mushed his brain. That and the massive tentacle crushing his body in two...” She glances sidelong at Taffeta, before saying: “Still no clue why he had an orb like the one we found on Khingo, though, sorry.”
Taffeta sighs and lies back, closing her eyes in the warm sunshine. “What d’you think he was trying to summon?”
“Only one thing a mind flayer would go to that much trouble for. S’called an elder brain. Top of the mind flayer pecking order. Literally a giant brain that knows and remembers everything their society has been through, and gives them orders and advice and leadership. Kinda like what Rholor thinks he is for us.”
A burst of delighted laughter shakes Taffeta for several moments before she sighs again. “Ah, I needed that. It’s no fun going about scolding people.”
“Yer, I heard some stuff had happened. She ok? Are you?” Sunday drains the last of her water and fishes about in a pouch hanging from her belt as Taffeta is speaking.
“Idari’s okay. Well… she’s safe and sound and it seems like the Watch have decided to leave her alone. But, I don’t know, there’s something… I’m hoping it’s just, you know. Testing her limits. After all that time hiding, being careful, away from home. I think there’s more to it, though… I don’t know. Nerry and Rose have taken the girls for a trip to the beach, maybe that will help.” She holds a hand above her face to block the sun from her eyes as she looks over at the purple tiefling. “And while they’ve been off on their way, I’ve been trailing around town talking to those folks she was with at the time, giving them a good talking to! Found myself quite liking one of them, actually – Alenea, her name was.”
Sunday nods slowly in agreement as her friend is talking. She doesn’t respond immediately, taking a moment or two to finish tightly wrapping a thin cylinder of paper around some herbs. Eventually she says: “What do you think the ‘something more’ is?” She looks over at Taffeta, holding up the small paper tube. “Got a way to light this?” She waggles her fingers. “Most of my methods are a bit OTT.”
The hostess smiles and gets up, wanders into the house. She soon emerges holding a lit taper in one hand, the other cupped around the flame to protect it from the spring breeze. “Here you are.” she says, holding it up near Sunday.
“Ta.” Sunday says, dragging deep and sitting back with her legs folded neatly beneath her. “It could just be what you said, you know: all that time in the forest; finally back in the city. Letting off some steam.” Sunday blows two small streams of smoke out through her nostrils. “Could just be her age, too?”
“Maybe. We’ll see how she is after this trip,” says Taffeta before settling back onto the warm grass. “So why would that thing have been trying to summon an older brain here? Or – not here, I suppose. I don’t think we were ‘here’, exactly. I think those stairs we went down took us somewhere else – maybe another plane, even. I couldn’t tell. But it surely seemed like the only way in or out of that place was that hole in the ground near the old Stoneleaf quarry. Why would a mind-flayer want to bring that thing there? And how did it even get there itself?”
Sunday takes another long puff, considering her friend’s words. “Right, yer, good questions, to be honest.” She tucks the small paper tube behind an ear. “Ok. Bear with me. I’m still working this out myself. The way I understand it from Ori is this-” The tiefling waves a hand in the air, creating the image of a bubble. “-here’s the Material Plane where we are, right?” She waves her hand again, a larger bubble appearing around the first. “And this is the place where mind flayers come from: the Far Realm. Some of the mind flayers are here on the Material but most are stuck back on their plane. But theirs is shit so they’re all trying to get to ours.” The larger bubble starts to contract and expand and contract around the first sphere. “There are points where the distance between their plane and ours is very small.” She points to the places where the fluctuating bubble almost touches the inner sphere. “That closeness creates space for doors - or portals.” A part of the outer bubble extends and connects with the surface of the inner. “And the place underneath Stoneleaf? I reckon it’s one of those areas where the two planes are ‘touching’. And the mind flayer was trying to exploit that... to make a door... for the… brain to come through..” Sunday finishes, frowning with concentration. “It’s just a theory, mind you.”
“Could be. I know there’s a way to the plane of earth not far from there.” Taffeta points at the bubbles. “How’d you learn to do that? It’s different from most of your magic.”
“I picked it up during my time with Glasya...” Taffeta knows her friend too well to not notice the slight flicker of sadness pass across the tiefling’s eyes as she answers. “Talking of,” Sunday presses on, “I’ve always wanted to ask - how did you learn to do all the things you do, Taf?” She waves her hand to encompass the Shortcrust-Thistletop homestead. “I don’t mean the impossible things like raising a family and building a home; but the more mundane stuff, like sensing other planes and teleporting around?” She extends the hand holding the gently smouldering herbs towards the halfling, an eyebrow raised.
Taffeta takes it. “I don’t know, really. When we moved here and I saw all these people doing magic, I tried to remember some of the things my aunt Vatina used to do. A bit of healing, and bit of tracking. Then…” – she takes a slow drag and then hands the roll back to Sunday – “You’ve heard about the orcs and the xvarts and all that, right? When they attacked the town?”
Sunday nods. “Yer, Daring was still recovering when I arrived. You were caught up in it, weren’t you?”
“Everyone was. The ones who couldn’t fight were taken back to Faerûn for safety and the rest went out to the battle or stayed in town to defend it. I was on the walls but the walls didn’t hold. Some xvarts got in and went for the portal so I followed them. We knew they wanted to do something with it, something bad. I caught up and there was no one else there and the xvarts were doing whatever-it-was to the portal so I started shooting… Anyway the others arrived and there was a fight and the portal kind of… exploded. I was near it and it knocked me out. I don’t know what it did but after that I started to sort of… feel the planes somehow. When we came back to Daring I spent a while going to other planes – the earth plane like I mentioned, and the fire plane a few times… I went to the feywild a lot, too. And just started finding out things I can do. I’m still finding new ones sometimes. When I went with Big Blue to the desert and one of Te’zeer’s devils tried to attack me I wanted to make it go away and I felt something happening. I don’t know what it was, it didn’t do anything then, but I feel like I might be able to do it… Does that make any sense?”
Exhaling softly, Sunday nods along. “Yer, makes perfect sense to me. Just don’t ask me to explain why!” She laughs briefly, coughing slightly, before asking: “Do you think what happened with the portal exploding gave you the abilities? Or did it just unlock something that was already there?” She passes her friend the gently smoking roll again. “Can anyone else in your family do what you can? Idari’s got some tricks up her sleeves, too, no..?”
“She surely has! But…” Taffeta thinks for a few moments. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do any of the same things I do. She can heal too, but it’s a bit different. She can even do it without touching the person, like Pieni can. But all these other things – making herself look like other people… hurting people…” Sunday looks over with a questioning - almost concerned - expression. Taffeta smiles reassuringly. “It must all be from Tymora! I hope so, anyway.”
Sunday chews her lip, thinking. “That does sound a bit like The Lucky Lady’s wheelhouse, yer.” She shakes her head, smiling. “Bringing up a teenager… let alone one entwined with the Tiny Trickster... You and Nerry are the ones who’re gonna need all the luck you can get! Would it help if I had a chat with her?” She holds up her hands. “I swear I won’t teach her any of my old ways!” She wiggles her fingers again. “I’m a different woman now. I’ve even given away my lucky gloves!”
Taffeta laughs. "Maybe," she says. "Thank you. Here, you finish it," she adds, passing the roll of paper back. "So, that young man of yours - he came in pretty handy in that cave."
“Yer, he has his uses, I guess.” Sunday grins, half-embarrassed and half-pleased. “Thanks for keeping him alive. And thanks for going to investigate, Taf. I felt bad asking you to head out almost as soon as you’d finished getting resettled here. But… well… portals and aberrations - there’s not many I can think of better suited to checking it out. Or whom I trust more.”
"Well, you were right, it sounded like something worth dealing with. Hard to know what to make of it in the end, though. Some kind of tentacled balloon with all kinds of rubbish strapped to its back, trying to… I still don't know what it was trying to do! But it attacked us, and now it's dead, or at least gone back where it came from, and I guess that's the safest thing for a tentacled balloon thing that attacks you. Better than having it a day or two down the road, anyway."
“And deal with it you did!” The tiefling looks like she is on the verge of saying more, before lapsing into silence, rhythmically drumming the dainty fingers of one hand against the ground, the other holding the roll-up to her lips as she smokes.
“Do you think so?” asks Taffeta? “I mean, the tentacle thing’s gone and the mind-flayer’s dead but… is it all over? Whatever it was? There was the stone, like the one Khingo had. What are the stones for?”
Sunday shakes her head in frustration. “I don’t know, Taf. I just don’t know.” She pauses for a moment or two before continuing. “I mean, is it even up to us to find out?”
The halfling levers herself up on one elbow to look at her friend with curiosity. "Now that isn't something I thought I'd hear from the one who took herself off across the sea to fight in a war in some other country!"
“Right... But it was some other country. Who are we to get involved? Like, we do these things, all of us; we push our way into other people’s lives and drastically alter them. Even end them.” She sits up and meets Taffeta’s gaze, small measures of confusion and resentment in her eyes. “But for why, though? Why us? There are plenty of other people in the Dawnlands who can take care of it - why are we still fighting these battles, putting ourselves and the people we love in harm’s way?”
"I don't know, Sun. You know me - I don't like getting mixed up in this kind of thing. Where I come from, there weren't many of us, we all knew each other, and if one of us had a problem then we all tried to help. If gnolls or goblins got too close to our little bit of the woods, we'd defend our home. Apart from that, we left things alone. Since we came here I've been all muddled about what to do. First of all I just did the same - if someone said they needed help, I'd help them. You remember where that ended up. Then I stopped helping almost everyone, except a few I trusted and cared about - you, Paw, Carrot. You're the one who convinced me to look a bit further. Well, you and Nerry. So I don't really know what I think now. I just want people around I can trust, and I want to look after those people." Taffeta lies back down in the grass, closing her eyes again. "I went to Stoneleaf because I didn't want a mind-flayer up to something that close to my family and friends. If whatever they were doing is over, then that's the main thing. But these stones… they're something to do with what happened at the MacAdams warehouse, and that's something to do with Paw's sister, and I want to help Paw find her sister. That's all I know about it. But you… I haven't heard you talk like this before. What's brought this on?"
Sunday mumbles something only half-audible, as she looks down at her hands.
“Do-know-many-I-last-alone?
"What's that, love?"
“I said: do you know how many creatures I’ve killed in the last year alone?”
"No. No, I don't."
“No. Me neither.” Sunday finally looks at Taffeta, her golden-and-green-flecked eyes starting to brim with tears. “And do you know how many I’ve brought back from death? One. One person. Against countless killed. I thought it would be different when I went off to the ‘Wild - after Granny died. The Fey claim to love music and joy and living. But they’re the same as everyone else. Look at those games?!” Sunday almost spits the last word before shaking her head, the motion dislodging some of the water in her eyes. ”And I still took part.” She glances away from her friend. “For some reason, I have this power - and I don’t know why or what I’m supposed to do with it. I just end up killing.” She folds her hands in her lap and bows her head, tears falling in ones and twos as she does. “I’m tired of fighting, Taf, I’m tired of killing. I’m tired of all of it.”
"Oh, love," says Taffeta gently, sitting up and putting her arms around Sunday. "I know. I know just what you mean."
As she embraces the tiefling, it is as though her touch releases a flood. Sunday buries her head in the halfling’s shoulder and begins to cry in earnest.
Eventually, when the sobs begin to subside, Taffeta speaks again. "Listen, love. You don't have to fight any more. We're all safe for now. What do you want to do? What would make you happy? Do you want to bring people back to life? Heal them? There's plenty of need for that. Or tend your plants? Look after the land?"
Wiping one hand across her nose, Sunday sits back and holds Taffeta’s hand with the other. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.” Holding up her free hand, her nails extend into lethally sharp points before retracting. “This is all I’ve ever done since I can remember.” Then she smiles weakly. “The thing with the plants sounds nice, though - healing people, too. And don’t tell Ori this but I’m quite enjoying learning a new language from him. Even if it does sound awful.”
Taffeta smiles. "Well, it's something to think about. You're young - I suppose maybe it doesn't feel that way, after everything you've been through, but you are, and you've got plenty of time to try different things and find your way. For now - it sounds like you need a rest. You're right, there's other people can deal with strange goings-on. You know you're welcome to stay here with us for a bit - not that it's much of a place for peace and quiet!"
Sunday squeezes her hand. “Thank you, I know. But I couldn’t again impose again - I did that enough when you were all in Rowan’s. And you’ve only just got the girls settled back here; you need time as a family.” She smiles again, stronger this time. “Besides, Markas will only end up accidentally stabbing himself with one of his swords if I’m not around. Thanks for the offer, though.” She puts her arms around Taffeta, hugging her tightly for a few moments before sitting back. “And what about you - what do you want to do? After helping Paw find her sister, I mean. Do you think you’ll ever go back to your home in the woods?”
"Oh yes," says Taffeta. "Some day. I hope so, anyway. We still don't really know what Tymora has in mind for Idari. Whether that's here or there or somewhere else. And… I'm still worried about Zmee." She looks at her golden bracelet, shaped like two intertwined dragons' tails. "The planes aren't right without her, and if the planes aren't right then I don't feel right." She looks up suddenly. "You don't think that could be… Ah, now look at me, asking you about all that after what you've just said. Don't pay it any mind. No way to know, anyway..."
Waving her hand in a ‘don’t worry about it’ motion, Sunday gestures to the bracelet. “Has something happened? Can you contact her?”
“No, nothing’s happened. I suppose I’ve just had more time to think about it now that most other things are back to normal. I’ve got no way to reach her. I could go back to the feywild, try to find her cave again, but… the dryads said I should just wait to hear from them.”
“Yer, but when a dryad says that - could mean wait 1,000 years! Time doesn’t mean much to someone who’s mostly tree: just ask… Will…” Sunday frowns. “Or Aribeth… You know, we could go and ask either of them? If you want to, that is.” Sunday trails off. “But maybe waiting is better. No sense rushing into stuff. Not when we don’t have to.”
“Maybe… I’m not sure. I probably shouldn’t go running off looking for things like that at the moment. Not until the girls are more settled. Especially Carrot – the house is new for her, and it must be sad to be back in Daring but not have Tugark around any more.” Taffeta sighs. “And that’s another thing, isn’t it? We need to find a way of bringing him back… somehow…”
“Yer, you’re right. There’s enough going on without adding to our list.” Sunday rubs her hands over her face, scrubbing away some of the tears and fatigue. “How’s Carrot doing, anyway? She must miss him terribly.”
"Yes… though she doesn't talk about it much. The trip to the beach may help. Or at least give her a chance for a good cry, you know?"
“Big cries are good for the soul.” Sunday smiles. “Thanks, Taf, for being you. I don’t say this often enough: you’re my best friend and I love you.”
Taffeta reaches out and rests a small hand on her friend's shoulder. "I love you too, Sun. And I want you to have a life that feels right for you. And I'll tell you another thing." She squeezes the shoulder and uses it to steady herself as she gets to her feet. "I reckon you will, too. Now, let me see about getting us something to eat."
(Co-written with Sunday.)
Sunday unstraps her belt, letting it - and the twin forge hammers attached to it - drop into the long grass outside the house that the Shortcrust-Thistletop family have recently moved back into. Too tired to unbuckle the armour woven with marram, barnacles, kelp, and other living marine life, she flops down in the grass alongside her gear.
Running a hand through her hair - white-blonde and ever-increasingly streaked through with green; and still growing out from Avernus - she adjusts the simple band of copper to sit more squarely around her forehead. Where once the circlet - hand-woven with sprigs and clippings of purple iris, sage, holly, and lotus flower - sat neatly around the two curling ramshorns that grew during her time in the ‘Wild, now it balances on two much thinner, more delicate protuberances. Sunday has watched with mild interest as they have gradually changed over the last year or so, their lilac colouring increasingly shot through with streaks of bark-brown, and tiny buds and bumps emerging slowly to cover their surfaces..
Her brief contemplation of what this might mean is interrupted, however, by the emergence of Taffeta from the back door of the house.
"So," the halfling says, handing Sunday a cup of cool water and taking a seat next to her on the grass. "Did you get any clues from that dead mind-flayer?"
“Which one?!” Sunday grins. “I’ve got two on ice now. The one we picked up on our little fishing trip last tenday and the one you guys just dropped off.”
"Two! Well, either of them, I suppose, but I was thinking of the one Ghesh lugged back from that place near Stoneleaf a few days ago."
“We’re pretty sure he’s the same one encountered at the turn of the year. When those two people from Daring were killed beneath Stoneleaf. Same markings, same equipment.” Sunday takes a sip from her drink, digging her bare toes into the dirt and earth. “Apparently he was killed middle of casting a powerful spell. ‘Ritual recoil’ Ori calls it. The shock of the arcane blowback mushed his brain. That and the massive tentacle crushing his body in two...” She glances sidelong at Taffeta, before saying: “Still no clue why he had an orb like the one we found on Khingo, though, sorry.”
Taffeta sighs and lies back, closing her eyes in the warm sunshine. “What d’you think he was trying to summon?”
“Only one thing a mind flayer would go to that much trouble for. S’called an elder brain. Top of the mind flayer pecking order. Literally a giant brain that knows and remembers everything their society has been through, and gives them orders and advice and leadership. Kinda like what Rholor thinks he is for us.”
A burst of delighted laughter shakes Taffeta for several moments before she sighs again. “Ah, I needed that. It’s no fun going about scolding people.”
“Yer, I heard some stuff had happened. She ok? Are you?” Sunday drains the last of her water and fishes about in a pouch hanging from her belt as Taffeta is speaking.
“Idari’s okay. Well… she’s safe and sound and it seems like the Watch have decided to leave her alone. But, I don’t know, there’s something… I’m hoping it’s just, you know. Testing her limits. After all that time hiding, being careful, away from home. I think there’s more to it, though… I don’t know. Nerry and Rose have taken the girls for a trip to the beach, maybe that will help.” She holds a hand above her face to block the sun from her eyes as she looks over at the purple tiefling. “And while they’ve been off on their way, I’ve been trailing around town talking to those folks she was with at the time, giving them a good talking to! Found myself quite liking one of them, actually – Alenea, her name was.”
Sunday nods slowly in agreement as her friend is talking. She doesn’t respond immediately, taking a moment or two to finish tightly wrapping a thin cylinder of paper around some herbs. Eventually she says: “What do you think the ‘something more’ is?” She looks over at Taffeta, holding up the small paper tube. “Got a way to light this?” She waggles her fingers. “Most of my methods are a bit OTT.”
The hostess smiles and gets up, wanders into the house. She soon emerges holding a lit taper in one hand, the other cupped around the flame to protect it from the spring breeze. “Here you are.” she says, holding it up near Sunday.
“Ta.” Sunday says, dragging deep and sitting back with her legs folded neatly beneath her. “It could just be what you said, you know: all that time in the forest; finally back in the city. Letting off some steam.” Sunday blows two small streams of smoke out through her nostrils. “Could just be her age, too?”
“Maybe. We’ll see how she is after this trip,” says Taffeta before settling back onto the warm grass. “So why would that thing have been trying to summon an older brain here? Or – not here, I suppose. I don’t think we were ‘here’, exactly. I think those stairs we went down took us somewhere else – maybe another plane, even. I couldn’t tell. But it surely seemed like the only way in or out of that place was that hole in the ground near the old Stoneleaf quarry. Why would a mind-flayer want to bring that thing there? And how did it even get there itself?”
Sunday takes another long puff, considering her friend’s words. “Right, yer, good questions, to be honest.” She tucks the small paper tube behind an ear. “Ok. Bear with me. I’m still working this out myself. The way I understand it from Ori is this-” The tiefling waves a hand in the air, creating the image of a bubble. “-here’s the Material Plane where we are, right?” She waves her hand again, a larger bubble appearing around the first. “And this is the place where mind flayers come from: the Far Realm. Some of the mind flayers are here on the Material but most are stuck back on their plane. But theirs is shit so they’re all trying to get to ours.” The larger bubble starts to contract and expand and contract around the first sphere. “There are points where the distance between their plane and ours is very small.” She points to the places where the fluctuating bubble almost touches the inner sphere. “That closeness creates space for doors - or portals.” A part of the outer bubble extends and connects with the surface of the inner. “And the place underneath Stoneleaf? I reckon it’s one of those areas where the two planes are ‘touching’. And the mind flayer was trying to exploit that... to make a door... for the… brain to come through..” Sunday finishes, frowning with concentration. “It’s just a theory, mind you.”
“Could be. I know there’s a way to the plane of earth not far from there.” Taffeta points at the bubbles. “How’d you learn to do that? It’s different from most of your magic.”
“I picked it up during my time with Glasya...” Taffeta knows her friend too well to not notice the slight flicker of sadness pass across the tiefling’s eyes as she answers. “Talking of,” Sunday presses on, “I’ve always wanted to ask - how did you learn to do all the things you do, Taf?” She waves her hand to encompass the Shortcrust-Thistletop homestead. “I don’t mean the impossible things like raising a family and building a home; but the more mundane stuff, like sensing other planes and teleporting around?” She extends the hand holding the gently smouldering herbs towards the halfling, an eyebrow raised.
Taffeta takes it. “I don’t know, really. When we moved here and I saw all these people doing magic, I tried to remember some of the things my aunt Vatina used to do. A bit of healing, and bit of tracking. Then…” – she takes a slow drag and then hands the roll back to Sunday – “You’ve heard about the orcs and the xvarts and all that, right? When they attacked the town?”
Sunday nods. “Yer, Daring was still recovering when I arrived. You were caught up in it, weren’t you?”
“Everyone was. The ones who couldn’t fight were taken back to Faerûn for safety and the rest went out to the battle or stayed in town to defend it. I was on the walls but the walls didn’t hold. Some xvarts got in and went for the portal so I followed them. We knew they wanted to do something with it, something bad. I caught up and there was no one else there and the xvarts were doing whatever-it-was to the portal so I started shooting… Anyway the others arrived and there was a fight and the portal kind of… exploded. I was near it and it knocked me out. I don’t know what it did but after that I started to sort of… feel the planes somehow. When we came back to Daring I spent a while going to other planes – the earth plane like I mentioned, and the fire plane a few times… I went to the feywild a lot, too. And just started finding out things I can do. I’m still finding new ones sometimes. When I went with Big Blue to the desert and one of Te’zeer’s devils tried to attack me I wanted to make it go away and I felt something happening. I don’t know what it was, it didn’t do anything then, but I feel like I might be able to do it… Does that make any sense?”
Exhaling softly, Sunday nods along. “Yer, makes perfect sense to me. Just don’t ask me to explain why!” She laughs briefly, coughing slightly, before asking: “Do you think what happened with the portal exploding gave you the abilities? Or did it just unlock something that was already there?” She passes her friend the gently smoking roll again. “Can anyone else in your family do what you can? Idari’s got some tricks up her sleeves, too, no..?”
“She surely has! But…” Taffeta thinks for a few moments. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do any of the same things I do. She can heal too, but it’s a bit different. She can even do it without touching the person, like Pieni can. But all these other things – making herself look like other people… hurting people…” Sunday looks over with a questioning - almost concerned - expression. Taffeta smiles reassuringly. “It must all be from Tymora! I hope so, anyway.”
Sunday chews her lip, thinking. “That does sound a bit like The Lucky Lady’s wheelhouse, yer.” She shakes her head, smiling. “Bringing up a teenager… let alone one entwined with the Tiny Trickster... You and Nerry are the ones who’re gonna need all the luck you can get! Would it help if I had a chat with her?” She holds up her hands. “I swear I won’t teach her any of my old ways!” She wiggles her fingers again. “I’m a different woman now. I’ve even given away my lucky gloves!”
Taffeta laughs. "Maybe," she says. "Thank you. Here, you finish it," she adds, passing the roll of paper back. "So, that young man of yours - he came in pretty handy in that cave."
“Yer, he has his uses, I guess.” Sunday grins, half-embarrassed and half-pleased. “Thanks for keeping him alive. And thanks for going to investigate, Taf. I felt bad asking you to head out almost as soon as you’d finished getting resettled here. But… well… portals and aberrations - there’s not many I can think of better suited to checking it out. Or whom I trust more.”
"Well, you were right, it sounded like something worth dealing with. Hard to know what to make of it in the end, though. Some kind of tentacled balloon with all kinds of rubbish strapped to its back, trying to… I still don't know what it was trying to do! But it attacked us, and now it's dead, or at least gone back where it came from, and I guess that's the safest thing for a tentacled balloon thing that attacks you. Better than having it a day or two down the road, anyway."
“And deal with it you did!” The tiefling looks like she is on the verge of saying more, before lapsing into silence, rhythmically drumming the dainty fingers of one hand against the ground, the other holding the roll-up to her lips as she smokes.
“Do you think so?” asks Taffeta? “I mean, the tentacle thing’s gone and the mind-flayer’s dead but… is it all over? Whatever it was? There was the stone, like the one Khingo had. What are the stones for?”
Sunday shakes her head in frustration. “I don’t know, Taf. I just don’t know.” She pauses for a moment or two before continuing. “I mean, is it even up to us to find out?”
The halfling levers herself up on one elbow to look at her friend with curiosity. "Now that isn't something I thought I'd hear from the one who took herself off across the sea to fight in a war in some other country!"
“Right... But it was some other country. Who are we to get involved? Like, we do these things, all of us; we push our way into other people’s lives and drastically alter them. Even end them.” She sits up and meets Taffeta’s gaze, small measures of confusion and resentment in her eyes. “But for why, though? Why us? There are plenty of other people in the Dawnlands who can take care of it - why are we still fighting these battles, putting ourselves and the people we love in harm’s way?”
"I don't know, Sun. You know me - I don't like getting mixed up in this kind of thing. Where I come from, there weren't many of us, we all knew each other, and if one of us had a problem then we all tried to help. If gnolls or goblins got too close to our little bit of the woods, we'd defend our home. Apart from that, we left things alone. Since we came here I've been all muddled about what to do. First of all I just did the same - if someone said they needed help, I'd help them. You remember where that ended up. Then I stopped helping almost everyone, except a few I trusted and cared about - you, Paw, Carrot. You're the one who convinced me to look a bit further. Well, you and Nerry. So I don't really know what I think now. I just want people around I can trust, and I want to look after those people." Taffeta lies back down in the grass, closing her eyes again. "I went to Stoneleaf because I didn't want a mind-flayer up to something that close to my family and friends. If whatever they were doing is over, then that's the main thing. But these stones… they're something to do with what happened at the MacAdams warehouse, and that's something to do with Paw's sister, and I want to help Paw find her sister. That's all I know about it. But you… I haven't heard you talk like this before. What's brought this on?"
Sunday mumbles something only half-audible, as she looks down at her hands.
“Do-know-many-I-last-alone?
"What's that, love?"
“I said: do you know how many creatures I’ve killed in the last year alone?”
"No. No, I don't."
“No. Me neither.” Sunday finally looks at Taffeta, her golden-and-green-flecked eyes starting to brim with tears. “And do you know how many I’ve brought back from death? One. One person. Against countless killed. I thought it would be different when I went off to the ‘Wild - after Granny died. The Fey claim to love music and joy and living. But they’re the same as everyone else. Look at those games?!” Sunday almost spits the last word before shaking her head, the motion dislodging some of the water in her eyes. ”And I still took part.” She glances away from her friend. “For some reason, I have this power - and I don’t know why or what I’m supposed to do with it. I just end up killing.” She folds her hands in her lap and bows her head, tears falling in ones and twos as she does. “I’m tired of fighting, Taf, I’m tired of killing. I’m tired of all of it.”
"Oh, love," says Taffeta gently, sitting up and putting her arms around Sunday. "I know. I know just what you mean."
As she embraces the tiefling, it is as though her touch releases a flood. Sunday buries her head in the halfling’s shoulder and begins to cry in earnest.
Eventually, when the sobs begin to subside, Taffeta speaks again. "Listen, love. You don't have to fight any more. We're all safe for now. What do you want to do? What would make you happy? Do you want to bring people back to life? Heal them? There's plenty of need for that. Or tend your plants? Look after the land?"
Wiping one hand across her nose, Sunday sits back and holds Taffeta’s hand with the other. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.” Holding up her free hand, her nails extend into lethally sharp points before retracting. “This is all I’ve ever done since I can remember.” Then she smiles weakly. “The thing with the plants sounds nice, though - healing people, too. And don’t tell Ori this but I’m quite enjoying learning a new language from him. Even if it does sound awful.”
Taffeta smiles. "Well, it's something to think about. You're young - I suppose maybe it doesn't feel that way, after everything you've been through, but you are, and you've got plenty of time to try different things and find your way. For now - it sounds like you need a rest. You're right, there's other people can deal with strange goings-on. You know you're welcome to stay here with us for a bit - not that it's much of a place for peace and quiet!"
Sunday squeezes her hand. “Thank you, I know. But I couldn’t again impose again - I did that enough when you were all in Rowan’s. And you’ve only just got the girls settled back here; you need time as a family.” She smiles again, stronger this time. “Besides, Markas will only end up accidentally stabbing himself with one of his swords if I’m not around. Thanks for the offer, though.” She puts her arms around Taffeta, hugging her tightly for a few moments before sitting back. “And what about you - what do you want to do? After helping Paw find her sister, I mean. Do you think you’ll ever go back to your home in the woods?”
"Oh yes," says Taffeta. "Some day. I hope so, anyway. We still don't really know what Tymora has in mind for Idari. Whether that's here or there or somewhere else. And… I'm still worried about Zmee." She looks at her golden bracelet, shaped like two intertwined dragons' tails. "The planes aren't right without her, and if the planes aren't right then I don't feel right." She looks up suddenly. "You don't think that could be… Ah, now look at me, asking you about all that after what you've just said. Don't pay it any mind. No way to know, anyway..."
Waving her hand in a ‘don’t worry about it’ motion, Sunday gestures to the bracelet. “Has something happened? Can you contact her?”
“No, nothing’s happened. I suppose I’ve just had more time to think about it now that most other things are back to normal. I’ve got no way to reach her. I could go back to the feywild, try to find her cave again, but… the dryads said I should just wait to hear from them.”
“Yer, but when a dryad says that - could mean wait 1,000 years! Time doesn’t mean much to someone who’s mostly tree: just ask… Will…” Sunday frowns. “Or Aribeth… You know, we could go and ask either of them? If you want to, that is.” Sunday trails off. “But maybe waiting is better. No sense rushing into stuff. Not when we don’t have to.”
“Maybe… I’m not sure. I probably shouldn’t go running off looking for things like that at the moment. Not until the girls are more settled. Especially Carrot – the house is new for her, and it must be sad to be back in Daring but not have Tugark around any more.” Taffeta sighs. “And that’s another thing, isn’t it? We need to find a way of bringing him back… somehow…”
“Yer, you’re right. There’s enough going on without adding to our list.” Sunday rubs her hands over her face, scrubbing away some of the tears and fatigue. “How’s Carrot doing, anyway? She must miss him terribly.”
"Yes… though she doesn't talk about it much. The trip to the beach may help. Or at least give her a chance for a good cry, you know?"
“Big cries are good for the soul.” Sunday smiles. “Thanks, Taf, for being you. I don’t say this often enough: you’re my best friend and I love you.”
Taffeta reaches out and rests a small hand on her friend's shoulder. "I love you too, Sun. And I want you to have a life that feels right for you. And I'll tell you another thing." She squeezes the shoulder and uses it to steady herself as she gets to her feet. "I reckon you will, too. Now, let me see about getting us something to eat."
(Co-written with Sunday.)
