RP:Drow Marital Problems

Summary: Immediately after Lanlan nearly killed Gevurah, she returns home to be healed and regroup with Daath. Gevurah tells Daath that Lanlan, likely under possession, attacked her. Daath calmly states he will kill Lanlan, no problem. But Gevurah says she doesn’t want Lanlan killed, she wants him cured. Daath does not respond well, and in anger makes a case for making an example of Lanlan. However, Gevurah is in love Lanlan and cannot agree to Daath’s plan. Instead, she tells Daath to destroy House D’l’sel’D’issan and effectively dispossess Second Patron Lanlan D’l’sel’D’issan.

House D’Artes

Gevurah :: Izzerin runs through the cavernous halls of House D’Artes in a panic. His new legs run preternaturally swift, and yet he loses in a race against his own panicked heart. He raps on Daath’s door insistently, each knock more frenetic than the last. “Master Daath! Master Daath! Come quick! It’s Mistress Gevurah!” His undead expression twists between a frown, a scowl, and genuine concern, even outright fear. Once Daath is speed-walking beside him, he explains a little. “Mistress Gevurah just returned home,” after almost two days away gallivanting Vakmatharas knows where. “She’s badly hurt, Master.” The servant shakes his head in disbelief. He didn’t think nobles could have their bodies destroyed the way the common folk and the slaves can. “I don’t know what happened. She hasn’t said a word to anyone about it. She asked for you.” Izzerin leads Daath to a small shrine to Vakmatharas. The door is open. Gevurah sits on a stool hunched over a lectern as a young priestess stands behind her diligently pulling pieces of bones out of Gevurah’s left shoulder. The shoulder blade pieces easily come loose from a slab of tenderized ebon meat that looks like it was blasted from the inside. Several bowls full of blood-soaked rags sit at the young healer’s feet. Gevurah’s white hair is smeared and matted with blood at the back of her head. She’s topless, and instead wears bandages that hum and glow with enchantment around her breast and ribs. If Daath circles around to Gevurah’s right side, he’ll find that her right thigh has been badly burned as well, and that the fire ripped right through her leather pants and boiled the flesh below. A second priestess, more advanced in her art, presses a hand to Gevurah’s chest and continuously repeats the same prayer over and over and over.

Daath is rushed down the corridor by Izzerin with very little said besides the basics, and that was enough. While normally he wouldn't budge upon hearing such news for even his own family, Gevurah requires more of a reaction. His lack of healing capabilities will make his presence mostly mute, save the fact he was requested by the Matron herself. That's when he sees her, and takes in the extensive damage that has battered once flawless form. Now drow are not known for concern, pity or even love, and yet seeing his wife laid low by whatever forces are at play here raise not only a fair bit of concern but even more questions. He'd allow the healers go about their work uninterrupted, though he'd make his way closer and his presence known to Gevurah as he says. "I'd imagine if he wasn't already dead, poor Izzerin would be dead again from seeing you like this." Poor taste? Probably. Poor timing? Again probably. But Daath is new to this. Caring. He was here, he did care she was damn well near death, but he really didn't know what to do here.

Gevurah turns her gaze towards Daath as best she can without disturbing the healers. She’s surprised by the hint of concern in his eyes, and by his joke which is made not at her expense, but instead to sympathize, even if only a little. Her lips twitch into something akin to a grin which is quickly pulled into a grimace as the young healer works on her back. Gevurah holds up a hand gingerly in Daath’s direction as if asking him to wait. The young healer explains to Daath without daring to look him in the face, “Her lung was punctured. Her voice is weak, but the lung should be repaired soon.” As if on cue, the older healer finishes her lengthy incantation and Gevurah tests out her new lung with deep breaths. She winces each time, her chest hyperventilating a couple times as she tries to get her new lung under control. Pangs of pain snag her lip, nose, brow, and jaw, but the Matron doesn’t cry out or scream. The young healer spackles something gooey, gray, and pungent on the piece of fractured shoulder blade still attach to Gevurah’s body. The healers switch sides. The older healer stands behind Gevurah and starts a new prayer to turn the spackle into fresh bone. The younger healer kneels by Gevurah’s burnt thigh and gets to work repairing the flesh through ungents and spells. “We have a problem,” Gevurah finally says in an embarrassingly weak voice. She takes a few more breaths then tries again, this time with a slightly stronger voice. “Lanlan did this, except I am almost certain he was possessed.” But then again, with an illusionist as cunning as Lanlan, it’s entirely possible he faked his own possession. Is this the work of an accursed patron? Or, more likely, is this the work of a jealous admirer of a lower house finally making an attempt to usurp the first house after the object of his affection married someone else?

Daath was watching the healers work through the early stages of the healed lung. It was impressive work to be sure, and noteworthy of their skill and devotion. Then Gevurah speaks and Daath reacts without thinking by moving closer to her side. What the hell was that? In a moment of self realization the Magister corrects himself, not liking that his body dared move to act on its own. But then Gevurah's words reach his ears. Lanlan? A god damn apprentice mage? A pretend patron? How could she allow an over reaching upstart like that trash to inflict this kind of damage on her? It clicks again. He had already scrubbed it out of his mind because of their relationship, Gevurah could bed who she wanted, but not her pet was acting out. She goes on about possession, something Daath has experience in when dealing with Tenebrae. More than a few kinds of evil managed to find residence within members of the cabal. The obsidian pool being a primary source of such calamity. This could explain the power he had to attack Gevurah, who Daath will admit is not so easy a target. It's a thing heroes about his wife. Here, he replies. "I shall have his head at your feet by the morning." It's simple, his tone easy and smooth and controlled. Like how someone sounds when they say they'll take out the trash. Lanlan, possessed or not, still didn't register as a threat to the Magister of necromancy. In fact, a possessed target meant his area of expertise gave him a leg up in dealing with such threats. Yes, the magus is eager to deal with this pissant, he'd crush him easily and use him as an example to all other houses that even selling your souls for power will not be enough overcome the dynasty that is Gevurah and Daath in House D'Artes. "Yes. I shall deal with him personally."

Gevurah ‘s body very slighted opened towards Daath when he came closer to her. She doesn’t even realize she does it. The reaction comes from some place instinctual that tells her that trusting Daath and opening up to him is correct and even desirable. Then he steps away and she remembers the same thing Daath remembers: they’re not like that with each other. He isn’t warm, and neither should she be - right? The young priestess swoons when Daath states simply that he will kill the drow who hurt his wife. Revenge and body counts were the height of drow fealty and romance. But Gevurah shakes her head. “No, Daath, I want him cured. I could have killed him on my own,” she says simply, not a brag. “But I was trying to exorcise him, not kill him. He got away before I could rid him of the evil entity inside him.” She winces as the young priestess, in her shock, rubs the burn the wrong way. “Careful!” Gevurah hisses as she knocks the back of her hand against the girl’s cheek as a warning.

Daath was lost somewhere in the thoughts and imagery of the horrible things he'd do to Lanlan when Gevurah's words snap him out of it. What? His look twists visibly to display his confusion. "Alive? Why? A lesser house, even worse a lesser drow laid you low. And wait..." Her words play back. "You were trying to save him? Why? The fool got hold of magic he is clearly to inept to handle and should just be put down. One less patron galavanting about acting superior. He's an upstart, barely an apprentice in the guild. A patron by default, and only so because you killed the Matron. Why waste your power up on saving such a disgrace? Let alone the fact he laid you low? Curse or not, keeping him alive will weaken your image. Now every patron and matron will just try to empower themselves with deals with nefarious beings to edge you out. Given it worked for a low level con artist like Lanlan." The sheer absurdity of it all blows Daath's mind. "The easiest answer is to kill the fool and use him as an example."

Gevurah grimaces again, but this time it’s not because of physical pain. Daath’s words sting with truth, and yet it’s a truth she cannot abide to see made into reality. Lanlan has more than just her bed. The drow always forget they’re elves and as susceptible to love as any other stupid sun-kissed race. The matron is silent for a long time - from Daath’s perspective, perhaps a frustratingly long time. It shouldn’t take this long to decide on the obvious course of action which Daath has so plainly outlined. “Then do what you must to make an example of Lanlan, but do not kill him. Do everything short of killing or maiming him. Halve his army, crush his house, oust him from your guild,” she looks away from Daath suddenly to conceal the pain in her face at the thought of what she cannot bear, “but don’t kill him.” The young priestess sees Gevurah’s pained expression and stares aghast. Lanlan? That weirdo? How. How!

Daath listens intently, and pays more attention than what he seems to be. Her reactions are heavily noted, that would be addressed at a later time. But, she needs to know he isn't so easily swayed from their pact. So he says. "He will live, per your request. And -only- because my matron, my -wife- asks me to spare the life of the bastard who harmed her." He makes that point clear, before he adds, with a softer tone. "Poor timing, I'd imagine. But I did have something for you. With help from Izzerin, who you'll need to calm down later." He sighs, before saying. "As I go clean this mess up, you'll find a new pet waiting for you. It was hard to obtain, but the breed is worth every coin I'm told, and you'll find no other like it in the city." Gevurah will find herself the new owner of a spider mount, like she had when she was younger. Izzerin shared the info and while Gevurah was gone with her boytoy, Daath was busy scouring the underdark for the very rare and elusive creature. "Pick a good name, will you?" The sweet gesture is a bit soured. Daath feels very forced into allowing Gevurah her cake so she can eat it too. The irony of her preaching drow superiority, of only the strongest surviving, and yet here she was pleading for her lover to be saved. Yes. Daath wasn't entirely happy at the moment, but he'd keep his word. Words of esoteric power spill forth from his lips in hushed tones, his hands reaching out to touch each of the healers as they perform their art. The curse is subtle but strong, and each healer would find themselves struck dead, their hearts bursting within their chests as soon as they finished their work, leaving Gevurah's moments of weakness completely erased from existence save for Izzerin and Daath, both of whom would never allow such to ever spread beyond these walls. To his wife, right before he'd turn to leave, Daath says. "I'd like to not make it a habit of cleaning up your messes."

Gevurah clenches and unclenches her jaw as Daath reveals how he behaves when angry. He’s unnervingly different from Lanlan who is explosive and aggressive. Despite Daath’s composure, she can feel his anger. He even delivers the gift like a slap in the face. And yet he remains committed to their arrangement and the loyalty earns him heaps of her patience. Normally she’d cut the tongue off someone who would dare speak to her in this way, but his loyalty earns him her silence. She wisely lets him go. But it becomes clear she’ll need to solve the problem of Lanlan’s curse without Daath. He won’t go so far as to perform an exorcism on her lover. Fair enough. Tonight she’ll write a letter to Dyraxdiin.