Abrupt Parole (26/9) - Leonida
Oct 7, 2023 12:47:10 GMT
Velania Kalugina, Andy D, and 1 more like this
Post by Leonida on Oct 7, 2023 12:47:10 GMT
The living weapon looks something like an overlarge insect, possessing pale chitinous skin, six legs, and a long segmented tail with a needle-like implement. This one in particular — type “Brienne”, a binomial name courtesy of Ronkk — has a pair of bile-green sacs under its hideous little face, containing a spewing poison that could coat a weapon. “Brienne” is still as it floats inside its acid jar; one could be forgiven for mistaking it as a dead specimen, preserved and waiting to be dissected open on a laboratory table.
However, when Leonida holds a lit candle against the jar, warming the surface of the glass, there is a twitch. Like its attention has been grabbed by the small orange flame. Slowly, she moves the candle around the jar, and the living weapon rotates its body in turn, following the flame, its tiny mouth opening and closing in soundless, bubbling hisses.
“Playin’ with your new toy, hun?”
Leonida straightens up and glances over her shoulder at Anissa leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. “Didn’t know you were back already,” the tiefling says, extinguishing the candle with a pinch of her fingers.
“Have you gone and seen your li’l friend?”
“I did,” Leonida replies, her tone matching Anissa’s careful wording, and throws a blanket over the glass jar. “It was a little…chaotic. Woulda been nice to have someone there who knows what they’re doing.” She gives the other young woman a pointed look. “But hey, can’t complain. We got outta there and got what we came for.”
“Mmm. Sorry, hun, maybe next time. So, you got the info you needed?”
“Yeah… These things, they’re sensitive to heat. It’s how they ‘see’ without eyes. That’s why the eggs were hatching each time one of us ‘cept the stone gargoyle came close. The kobold could approach the eggs safely ‘cause he’s cold-blooded. Well, safe to say that I’ve hit a dead end. There’s no way anyone can raise these things in Aver…in home base.”
“Aww,” Anissa coos as she leans against the dresser next to Leonida. “What a shame.”
It is a shame, Leonida thinks. But a disappointing answer is still an answer. And it’s not as if the infinite legions of Zariel are in shortage of weapons. There will be other opportunities to bring glory to the Fallen One.
“It’s fine. So, what’s happening in the Gate these days?”
Anissa’s brown eyes light up. “Oh, you know. Same old, same old. The Elfsong Tavern got in trouble — again — when investigators made a connection between the recent spate of missing pets and the ‘special sauce’ the new sous chef has been putting on the food. You can’t be too careful these days; who knows if your latest employee would turn out to be an aspiring Bhaalist?”
“The usual, then,” Leonida says, a smile almost touching her lips. “Alan shoulda reported that chef right after the interview. No sane person wants to work at the Elfsong as a sous chef.”
The brunette human laughs. “Yup. Everybody here talks shit about Port Ffirst but it ain’t got nothing on—”
“The biggest shithole in Faerûn. Gotta say, I do miss it. Sometimes.”
Silence drops like a heavy stone between them. Anissa wants to say something — Leonida can see it written on her face — but she is hesitating. Then she says it anyway, her voice coming out small and soft.
“We could always go home, y’know…? I bet the Fist has forgotten about you and Saer Damien by now…”
The question hangs in the air for a long time. Her fingers graze the back of Leonida’s hand resting on the dresser.
Until Leonida pulls her hand away to fold her arms. She grips her biceps tightly, as if hanging on for dear life, and her jaw clenches hard.
“Baldur’s Gate was never my home. And neither was Elturel. I know where my home is.”
Anissa nods, wisely choosing to say nothing more. And that was that.
However, when Leonida holds a lit candle against the jar, warming the surface of the glass, there is a twitch. Like its attention has been grabbed by the small orange flame. Slowly, she moves the candle around the jar, and the living weapon rotates its body in turn, following the flame, its tiny mouth opening and closing in soundless, bubbling hisses.
“Playin’ with your new toy, hun?”
Leonida straightens up and glances over her shoulder at Anissa leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. “Didn’t know you were back already,” the tiefling says, extinguishing the candle with a pinch of her fingers.
“Have you gone and seen your li’l friend?”
“I did,” Leonida replies, her tone matching Anissa’s careful wording, and throws a blanket over the glass jar. “It was a little…chaotic. Woulda been nice to have someone there who knows what they’re doing.” She gives the other young woman a pointed look. “But hey, can’t complain. We got outta there and got what we came for.”
“Mmm. Sorry, hun, maybe next time. So, you got the info you needed?”
“Yeah… These things, they’re sensitive to heat. It’s how they ‘see’ without eyes. That’s why the eggs were hatching each time one of us ‘cept the stone gargoyle came close. The kobold could approach the eggs safely ‘cause he’s cold-blooded. Well, safe to say that I’ve hit a dead end. There’s no way anyone can raise these things in Aver…in home base.”
“Aww,” Anissa coos as she leans against the dresser next to Leonida. “What a shame.”
It is a shame, Leonida thinks. But a disappointing answer is still an answer. And it’s not as if the infinite legions of Zariel are in shortage of weapons. There will be other opportunities to bring glory to the Fallen One.
“It’s fine. So, what’s happening in the Gate these days?”
Anissa’s brown eyes light up. “Oh, you know. Same old, same old. The Elfsong Tavern got in trouble — again — when investigators made a connection between the recent spate of missing pets and the ‘special sauce’ the new sous chef has been putting on the food. You can’t be too careful these days; who knows if your latest employee would turn out to be an aspiring Bhaalist?”
“The usual, then,” Leonida says, a smile almost touching her lips. “Alan shoulda reported that chef right after the interview. No sane person wants to work at the Elfsong as a sous chef.”
The brunette human laughs. “Yup. Everybody here talks shit about Port Ffirst but it ain’t got nothing on—”
“The biggest shithole in Faerûn. Gotta say, I do miss it. Sometimes.”
Silence drops like a heavy stone between them. Anissa wants to say something — Leonida can see it written on her face — but she is hesitating. Then she says it anyway, her voice coming out small and soft.
“We could always go home, y’know…? I bet the Fist has forgotten about you and Saer Damien by now…”
The question hangs in the air for a long time. Her fingers graze the back of Leonida’s hand resting on the dresser.
Until Leonida pulls her hand away to fold her arms. She grips her biceps tightly, as if hanging on for dear life, and her jaw clenches hard.
“Baldur’s Gate was never my home. And neither was Elturel. I know where my home is.”
Anissa nods, wisely choosing to say nothing more. And that was that.