RP:A New Strategy

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc

Summary: Lanlan takes care of a critically injured Gevurah and once again presses her to accept his plan to take Gospel’s sibling and let him wield it against Caluss. Gevurah finally relents and agrees to help. She also considers turning to The Spider Goddess for help.

Underdark/House D’Artes

Lanlan :: "After the rigged fight, Matron Gevurah was injured. In what was supposed to be a sporting game, urchin-girl Quintessa flouted the most basic codes of conduct, and caught Matron Gevurah off guard. Lord Lanlan immediately intervened and escorted the slightly hurt and badly insulted drow matron away from the arena. A poxy mark on an already ill-reputed fighting tournament." A drow soldier glamoured to look human recorded this, and disappeared off the moving carriage. Before this, and after the fight, a trio of olive-skinned humans barged down the door of the Craughmoyle healer, with one of them badly injured. After some shouting and inquisition, a carriage was ordered, staff was dispersed, and the wounded woman was stabilized. "Can you work in the back of a carriage?" Yes, with the right equipment. But... Thus the impressment of this dwarven doctor was carried out, and Lanlan, Gevurah, and Doctor Dwarf boarded a carriage and are riding in it now. Gevurah floats so she can't be jostled by the bumps on the stony road to Tristoth. Lanlan holds her hand in his, but avoids looking at her. Blood has never bothered him as much as it did in this moment. He couldn't let himself see it. He didn't know (though he suspected), but stitches were holding her chest together. Ribs weakened by his altered self months ago were fractured again. The doctor was speeding up the healing process. She would almost definitely live. What permanent damage there may be and how ugly the scarring would determine if her doctor would. He glanced down at her with his eyes. "What happened." Then he averts his eyes. It's difficult to tell under his glamour, but his skin pales at the sight of her.

Gevurah is grateful for the anesthetic elixir the dwarf made her drink. Her body feels numb, bloated, distended, prickly, slow, and hot, like a balloon full of slow-crawling fire caterpillars. The sensation makes her sweat. To keep herself from writhing, she works her blood-caked thumb along the tendons on the back of Lanlan’s hand. She doesn’t look down at her open chest, so neatly cracked by the katana like a machete splitting a gourd. She tried looking at Lanlan, but he refused to look back at her. Mistaking his aversion for shame and embarrassment (of course, ashamed of her, embarrassed of her), she looked away from him and stared up at the nose hairs of the dwarf. To focus on staying awake and calm, she counts the nose hairs and often loses her place past 11. That’s when Lanlan asks what happened. “It doesn’t matter. I know what happened. It won’t happen again.”

Lanlan realizes he actually doesn't want her to explain what happened. Not here. "No. It won't. I promise." After several moments of silence, Lanlan places his other hand around hers but continues looking out the window. Eventually he spots two of the matron's best lizards loping in unison. They pull up in front of the dwarven carriage and drag Lanlan's customized cart. The second best healer from her manor rides in it. Lanlan and Gevurah transfer over and the doctors converse, then part ways. In the latter half of their ride, Lanlan is similarly silent. Mind occupied by schemes of vengeance. He doesn't ever lose physical contact with her. He slowly does become comfortable enough to look at her again, but not lower than her neck. Every once in a while he leans in and lightly kisses her head, or pulls her hand up to lightly press his lips against it. Once they make it to her home, he is much the same. Now they have privacy, so he repeats his question. "What happened, Gevurah? I need to know."

Gevurah frowns bitterly when Lanlan promises this will never happen to her again. She turns her head away from him to shield her expression and keeps it there for the rest of the first carriage’s journey. After the hand-off with the drow carriage, whenever Lanlan’s affections grow more tender, she looks at him, fleetingly, frowning after each kiss but squeezing his hand to let him know she wants him to continue. In her estate she is stitched up more neatly, bathed, dressed in ungents, bandages, and a loose black robe, and transferred to her room. Alone with Lanlan, whatever stressed her in the carriage grows to monstrous, untenable proportion. He asks once more. She grabs a pillow and pulls it over her face to hide her expression. She muffles a shuddering breath and finally speaks, through the pillow, “Why. How can you bear to look at me.”

Lanlan stands instantly when she hides her face, and flings her door closed, locking it. He stalks her, knowing she can't see him through the pillow and what he wouldn't dare to think might be shame. "Gevurah." He touches the top of her robe-covered body as lightly as he possibly can, gliding over her chest, noting the raised points made by the many many stitches. "I need to know what they did. They need to be punished." He takes a deep breath trying to relieve the tension forcefully, but it won't recede. He takes another one. In. Out. He can't chill if she doesn't. "Gevurah, you aren't...afraid. Are you?"

Gevurah :: “No,” Gevurah says forcefully through the pillow. She pulls the pillow off her face to look at Lanlan in bewilderment. “Of Quintessa? No.” She shakes her head and makes herself dizzy due to the blood loss inflicted upon her by Quintessa. “No. I know how to kill her. I’m not afraid of her.” Her expression grows wary as she tries to understand how to read the look that Lanlan gives her now. Onto his concern and grief she projects her own shame. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not-- I didn’t know.” That sour frown of shame returns. “Caluss must have gotten to her. She had Caluss’s power to negate any spells I channeled through Vakmatharas’s will.” She swallows hard as she realizes something. “I don’t know who else Caluss has given that power to. Why Quintessa? I’d be surprised if she’s the only one.”

Lanlan is visibly relieved. "Of course!" He almost shouts in excitement. He realizes how inappropriate his exultation is and tones it down. "Of course. I knew you didn't make a mistake. I knew she must've...cheated. Somehow." He scowls, "That's so low. How could anyone knowingly seek and accept power from that thing. It's repulsive." He stands up and paces to the other side of the room dramatically, eyes scanning, looking at nothing. "If that's true then we won't be able to rely on Vakmatharas. We can't trust it." He taps two fingers to his temple very consciously. "We'll have to find another way. Another source of power to tap." He pretends to be deep in thought, then looks to her sheepishly, "Do you have any ideas?"

Gevurah ‘s stomach churns as Lanlan reveals that yes, he had been thinking all along that she made a mistake - a shameful, embarrassing, weak mistake. Her mind unspools that humiliating thread and she doesn’t listen to him as he paces and ponders aloud. “Hm?” she answers as she catches only the question and none of the preamble, but she can guess where is one-track mind is yet again. That damn weapon. “I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about this.” She tries to reposition herself and grimaces with every slight tension in her abdomen. “The numbing elixir is wearing off.”

Lanlan isn't ready to stop talking about this. "No, no I think we should continue," he says. He sees her try to shift away from him and slides into bed with her, snuggling up real close. She can roll into him or roll off the side. Besides, he's ready to surprise her this time with his versatility. He talks fast, wanting to get to the end as fast as possible, before she realizes what happened. "As Caluss's power and influence grows, Vakmatharas wanes. Invoke your pact with the spider again. Yes! You do that. Can I help? I don't think so, I'll have to find another avenue." He turns and kisses her on the cheek. "Okay we have a plan. And you should get some rest now, hm?"

Gevurah winces as Lanlan jostles her. “Lan,” she hisses. “The elixir.” It’s wearing off. The pain returns in incremental waves. It’s tolerable presently. Soon it won’t be. But, for now, she listens, scowling when Lanlan says that Vakmatharas’s power wanes. Could he be right, in this very specific context? The High Priestess of Death is loathe to admit that fact. Reaching out to The Spider Goddess appeals to her. It’s been a few years since Gevurah played with polytheism, but what’s a few years in the life of a drow? Or in the life of a god? But then Lanlan circles back to his pet passion, that damned weapon. The knee-jerk ‘no’ rises in Gevurah’s throat but she tamps it down. Her ideas and ambitions have been no more fruitful than Lanlan’s as of late. Who is she, a drow matron laid low by a f***ing spellblade surfacer that’s barely out of her nappies, to say what a winning strategy looks like anymore? Gevurah looks deep into his stare in search of weakness or an errant belief or a traitorous ambition or a pitying look. She doesn’t find any of those things. Instead, she finds his unwavering devotion to her, still present even after her humiliating loss. In recent months, Gevurah has suffered a series of personal, political, military, and arcane losses. Has she overestimated herself as much as she had underestimated him? “Okay,” she says as her gaze softens. “Fine. Yes. Okay. We’ll find your weapon.”

Lanlan almost rolls his eyes. "Such a baby." Already his vision of her as supernaturally tough has regained its place in his subconscious, and he practically dismisses her complaints. "What is this your first time being in the infirmary? I mean." His heart sinks a little. "I mean, sorry. I should get you something." He slowly, slowly, slowly eases out of bed. Slow enough that some animals wouldn't see him. Then he thinks about getting her something, or tries to. He leans on a shelf of different herbs and medicines and ruminates, while she apparently does the same. Until something she says grabs his attention. "Oh? We? We?" Before she can change her mind he skips to the next phase. "Okay. Then I do have a lead." He's completely forgotten about helping her with her pain.

Gevurah moans as she exhales and breathes through the pain. “The small green jar. Chewing bark,” she instructs as Lanlan spaces out. She snaps her fingers at him to hurry. “The Lord’s Pin bark.” Her face is plastered into a tight grimace and her teeth clench tighter by the second. “Lan,” she hisses again, this time with more urgency. As for his lead, her silence beckons him to continue.

Lanlan resumes his task urgently and brings a piece of bark to her lips, feeding it to her and being performatively careful of her teeth. "Bark? Must be a placebo," he mumbles. "Anyways. I dreamed of a giant serpent in the ocean. I know it's Gospel. I don't know which ocean. Maybe you can scry."

Gevurah ignores Lanlan’s lack of medicinal knowledge and chews the bark urgently until the effect takes root. She holds a hand up to signal to Lanlan to wait. It will take twenty minutes before the bark’s effect eases her mortal body’s suffering. She beckons him closer and takes his hand as she waits, eyes shut tightly against the pain. After 22 minutes, Gevurah finally exhales and releases the tension that had been mounting in her body. Finally her eyes open and she refocuses on Lanlan’s ambition. “Gospel? The weapon you want is Gospel?” She’s already forgotten the details of the weapon. In the past, whenever he brought it up, the matron was so focused on saying ‘no’ that she forgot to listen. She needs the entire run down again. In one smooth presentation. Maybe this time she’ll actually hear what her lover has to contribute.