Archive of Our Own

Work Text

Part One: Uncanny Revelations

It was with immense difficulty that I realized that I was not in my own room. I seemed to be unable to gain access to my senses and something was incorrect in the way my mind was processing the data it was receiving. I found this inability to access or assess my own senses as an unexpected plummet into the truth of paralytic petrification. With no alternative, I remained still and silent for some time. Discomfort soon crept in and gave way to other sensations, chiefly touch. The first thing I realized was that the fibers were coarse. This was not the elegant silks and threads of the House, but something… else. Is this what the servants used? Certainly not. I’d reflected at that time that such a cheapness could be seen as a sign of poverty, and couldn’t it? With another jolt, another sense returned, this time of balance and spatial awareness. So now, in addition to the coarse fiber I could feel, I’d realized that, unlike usual, I was laying horizontally on some form of uncomfortably stiff and lumpy slab. Such a shock was this information, that I wondered if I’d been injured and captured. This thought was then amplified by the newly perceived sounds I heard that slowly corrected themselves into voices nearby. Hushed, quiet voices, voices I did not recognize. Words I could not parse and speakers I could not see through the lids I realized were tightly gripped shut by my own growing sense of fear. With nearly insurmountable trepidation, I opened my eyes…
And such I have been, since. Frozen, again, but this time by choice.
The voices I hear, and indeed the people who make them, are near enough to me, but in a hallway so that I can only see one plainly. The voices are feminine - or at least I think they are - and the one who is visible appears armored in some fashion, though not a type I can plainly discern. As I watch, I consider that they haven’t been made aware of my stirring. And so, for countless minutes now, I have remained motionless, peering out of this open door. The construction is… novel. It is geometric and rectilinear. Simple. Nowhere along its structure, nor the door limply hanging from it into the room, bears any lavish decor. The walls are simply a smooth surface of carved slate or limestone. There are no details or callouts. No emblem of House or Estate. When I see the furniture near the door, it strikes me as an odd notion that it  seems to be constructed of wood. Without risking movement in fear of alerting those at the threshold of my awaking, I find myself drawn to these wooden materials I have only before seen in passing. Why would such a rare material be utilized - and utilized so clumsily and poorly - in such an otherwise unrefined room as this? Looking about the room, I notice other cases of wooden construction. A desk, a side table, some drawers and a shelf. I give each a careful assessment. Noting that not only are they likely made of wood, but that their craftsmanship varies greatly and their finish does not seem to match from piece to piece.
I realize my attention has drifted from my predicament during the examination of the headboard over my place of repose, when I am startled by the hissing whisper of one of the voices growing louder. The sudden reminder of my company is harsh, and I am unable to center myself before I lurch from my position, attention snapping again towards the sound. Petrified, I extend my gaze out through the open rectilinear door, frozen thrice again.
I can see her looking at me, her golden eyes looking right at me, and I consider for a moment that I should have closed mine, because it is clear to me now that she is not of my people. No, of course not, this isn’t Undercommon they speak, and she doesn’t wear any regalia I am familiar. She is an Elf, to be sure, that I can see clearly, but her skin isn’t of the right tinge and her eyes, her golden eyes… I have heard of these, is it Sun Elves? Or is that Wood Elves? Nonetheless, those I have been trained to call darthiir. She stares into this unfamiliar darkness and I wonder what she intends of me, what she is looking for in me, and why her expression does not change. But I see no hint. There is no insight I can gain as to her motives or intentions. The endless possibilities, both cruel and curious flood my mind, but my nerve-tensed muscles do nothing but lock once more. After a silence that lasts an eternity, she steps quietly back out the door and turns to the other voice whom I have heretofore been unable to identify the source. Their voices are softer this time. Perhaps they don’t wish for me to overhear their intentions? It’s possible she hadn’t seen me in this darkness, though surely this distance was no more than 80 feet? Can surface elves not see within that range? Ah, I recall now that they do not have greater vision in the dark, yes, that is correct, perhaps she could not see my eyes and thought me.. Asleep? Do surface elves sleep? I thought that was something lesser beings did? Even lesser than that of Darthien? Humans and goblins and such; beings that did not know the art of trancing Perhaps I do not know nearly so much of these surface elves and other surface mortals as I had thought. Maybe I can research more on these topics, if I am to survive this….
This what? Am I a prisoner? A captive? If so, surely they must be aware of who I am, and in so doing know of my House and how very little my disappearance will matter. Is there some other purpose? Ah! Perhaps Darthien also capture slaves! That must be it. Yes, then that should suffice, there would be no other more valuable prize than that of a Drow, surely, and a male likely will be considered more tamable than anything resembling a matron. Yes. It’s settled. I have been captured as a slave… Though why I have been relegated to my own chambers is something that I would consider unusual, given those circumstantial parameters.
In the hall I hear a shift. Something small moves into my vision just enough that I can see a tuft of white - perhaps some large Surface beast - over the horizon of my resting surface. The footsteps I hear walking away, however, imply that the creature is that of a bipedal-

With this I realize that the floor makes sound. The footsteps, I can hear them creaking and shifting under whatever is receding away. Is this ground unstable? Are we in the rickety shack of some surface beings who don’t know to listen for the warnings of the caves? A fear rises within me and I find myself looking around the room for signs. My mind takes in information, but all of it is alien and doesn’t relate to any data set I am familiar. I cannot understand the combinations of patterns and shapes, materials and configurations. Nothing is familiar with the singular exception of seeing the form of an elf - even if that elf is my blood-sworn enemy from a time so long past I wonder why any care to track it.

I lay in a deepening silence.

Quietly, she moves to lean against the frame of the door and I watch as she yawns, crosses her arms and stares menacingly down the hall. With her standing still, I can more clearly see the light armor she wears, adorned with some bright and embellished weapon. On both are emblazoned motifs of some strange shapes I had seen in a book some years ago. I believe they were called leaves. Something that trees form at some part of their growth cycle. Very peculiar things as I recall, though I was never able to fully comprehend the nature of their existence, or why these growths are said to form then fall from these ‘trees’ in what I had seen described as a ‘seasonal pattern’. Regardless, these motifs are as much a part of her regalia as two smaller fuzzier leaves are as one with her hair.

As I resign myself to my fate, to be guarded by this warrior, I realize - perhaps as a result of the stress of body and mind - that I am quite exhausted. I shift, watching to ensure she doesn’t approach, then settle into a trance without stirring more than necessary.

While in my trance, no notable sensory effects make their way into my awareness. Every once and a while there is a scuffle, a voice and some movement, but it is all quiet and not within any immediate proximity to my form. After some time, I hear the second voice talking to the warrior. I realize now that the second voice sounds much older than the first, though, I ignore this in favor of continuing my trance. When I hear shuffling enter into the room, my conscious begins to stir, and when a sound soon clatters - though softly - to a surface very near me, it starts me fully out of my rest and across the surface upon which I was displayed. My startled reaction to leap is accompanied by a blurt of non-linguistic vocalizations, and find myself kneeling near to the edge of the bed opposite the location the sound originated.

Squinting.

Why can’t I see clearly? What is this… intense burning in my eyes? This brightness. As though a thousand castings of Dancing Lights were hovering right before my eyes. I blink and rub trying to make sense of this sudden change, then look up and around the room, fully changed in this light. The walls are no form of stone I have any familiarity, the framing is all in woods of a grain I have not seen in the Houses of Vervemith’deshmal. There is a transparent structure near to me that allows rays of brightness to flood the room and reflect off of the pale wall surfaces even though there is a cloth draped over it. There are so many discrepancies to what my understanding of a room is that I can’t seem to justify any sense or knowledge whatsoever about the things I see before me. My mind can only see logical fallacies. Errors in expectations. The visible is not possible and the tactile is not reminiscent of previous experience. Everything is wrong.

I can feel myself turn to panic and I know this is the idiots reaction. I know that I am to bottle this sensation and show the enemy no fear, no gateway into my spirit, to do as The Queen would, and strike as they least expect by spinning the most cunning of webs… But what if I am just a juvenile spider in the grip of a cloaker?

I can feel the brightness creep into my mind and my ability to think is becoming blinded. With difficulty, I peer through the searing light around me and struggle to look in the direction I now face. What I see, barely peeking over the edge of this coarse brick they must call a mattress, is a small round face, wrinkled, and with an expression that I think to be a mixture of surprise and something unfamiliar. I blink at this face, realizing I recognize the white tuft of her hair from earlier this day as the creature I had heard walking down the hallway. She is like in size to what I think they say Svirfneblin are, though she is not grey of skin as they are, and does not seem to share other physical resemblance to them.

“Who are you, what is your purpose with me, and what is this place you have secreted me away to?!”

I try to be as confident as I can muster, but her reaction informs me that I have improperly placed the tone and that my meaning was either misunderstood or not sufficiently menacing. That or my huddled form is not enough presence.

I think, given the circumstances, my desire to blame these weaknesses on the searing light of whatever lies beyond this clear panel is permissible. The pain it causes my eyes is distracting, and I find I am unable to consider how else to counter it until - nearly by accident - I cover what seems to be the source with my hand, dimming some of this light as it casts a shadow over my eyes. Now, at least, there is some relief.

I wait for her reply, and follow her eyes as she looks to the warrior who had guarded me earlier. She looks in equal measure of surprised as the smaller female, and shrugs.

The response is completely unintelligible to me. This fact must have been made obvious somehow in my expression because after a moment she nods, says something else to the warrior, and then speaks in Elvish to me.

“Sorry dear, I hadn’t meant to startle you. You know, you gave us something of a fright last night yourself! We had no idea how you got here! Oh, but listen to me, getting distracted. My name is Rosie Beestinger, and this is my friend Walnut Dawngrass,” with this she gestures over to the one I will refer to as Warrior.

Warrior nods, but in a way I am familiar; distrust. I can feel both of these females appraising me now. I know this look intimately, and stiffen somewhat under its powerful spell. Are there Matrons on the surface as well? Do they have Matron Mothers of other goddesses besides the Spider Queen?

The smaller of the two raises her hands and closes her eyes. It is a laugh, but not a form of which I am familiar. It seems to be lacking the regular harsh bark and sting.

“Look at me getting carried away again!” She spins to collect the tray - as I see it now - that she had placed on this wooden bedside table. “I made you breakfast dear. Come eat before it gets cold. Cornerstones and some hot cocoa! What do you say to that?”

Ah! I am expected to respond? Does her culture expect words? Are there formalities I have not seen in my study? Will I be disciplined for my inadequate response? I throw my hands in front of me and bow silently, realizing I have been making eye contact this entire time, and that I most likely should

not

have.  
Warrior says something in a language almost familiar, perhaps it is Uppercommon? I ignore it and carefully reach for the tray being handed to me until I hear a terrifyingly familiar utterance and lose my grip entirely, dropping the contents and looking at her, at this ‘Walnut’, in shock.
“What did you-?” I ask in Elvish with less composure than I intended.
“Uhhh, nothing, don’t worry about it. I was just… talking about a …. Friend?-” She says with a hitch in her voice, and shrugging at the other, perhaps her superior - her Matron - before she continues “-of mine? You uh… have a… similar look to him, is all. What’s…. Your name?”

I look between the two. I was certain she had said my name, said it with.. With that sharp edge that people say as I walk down the street, knowing I can hear, but pretending they didn’t know I was near.

“M-My name is Thriss Rah’Uuthli…. Where… Where am I?”
  
=========================================================

And this is our first part, friends.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

I look back to Rosie having both known and not expecting this would be the answer he would give to my question. Okay, so I guess referring to him as ‘K’thriss’ was a little premature. I guess that falls on me for jumping the gun. I mean, thinking back, K’thriss did say that he used to have this kids name, but then changed it later on. Did he say that the K-sound stood for something? What word was that again? Leave it to the Drow society to invent their own words just so they don’t have to call it ‘Elvish’ anymore. It’s stupid and confusing, and now I’ve clearly’ offended this… Kid?Why is this kid even here? And how did he get here?I watch as Rosie does her best to comfort and help him by picking up the tray and tidying the mess of powdered sugar and hot cocoa that has now completely coated K’thriss bed. I mean, I’m sure K’thriss wouldn’t care anyway. Won’t care? Is this kid K’thriss? What the hell has he been DOING in here anyway?I look at all the crazy markings he has plastered, carved or drawn onto the walls of his room. It’s all the scribblings of a loon, as far as I can tell, and there are quite a few URs among them. He could have been up to anything and we’d be none -the-wiser. Almost puts into perspective how that cinch of Rosie’s might not be as much of a protection now as we once thought it was. Can’t really watch him while he studies at night or is in his creepy knife.“Oh sweety, don’t worry about that, here, let Grandma Beestinger take care of this for you, I got it,” She’s cooing to him in Elvish. At least he seems to understand that. He didn’t seem like he knew what we were saying when we were speaking Common. I mean, if he did he probably wouldn’t have reacted the way he did to me asking Rosie if we thought this is K’thriss and he just did some crazy experiment that suddenly de-aged him to around whatever age he was in the Wildcard Exam. Maybe younger? I don’t see stubble, but he might also have shaved? How does facial hair even work? K’thriss is the only person I know who has any, really. Kid’s hair is white, and he has normal Drow eyes so, at the very least he’s…“Rosie, I really don’t get it, like, look at him,” I gesture, again speaking in Common. “He’s that same blue as K’thriss-” again he stiffens and looks sharply at me and I can taste the fear and hurt in his red eyes “- uhh,” I put my hand down, slowly looking over to him.“Walnut, dear, maybe we can talk in another room so I can get him to eat and not drop this food for a third time? It was already a struggle convincing Propha to allow me to cook one so late out of the season. This is the one food I know for sure that a certain someone likes enough that I can hope his young doppelganger will also enjoy, and I’d rather it not go to waste while also staining the bed spread anymore than it already is.”“Sorry Grandmother, you’re right. I’ll go see if Propha has any of the beans used to make the hot bean water and see you in the Meeting Room.”“Sounds wonderful dear, I won’t be long,” she’s talking in Elvish again, and her tone is sugary sweet as she gets a towel to wipe something off the kids hand.He’s absolutely terrified and I can feel it overtake me until I cross out of sight into the hallway. I’ve never once considered that K’thriss was capable of terror. And now I have to deal with the fact that this maybe-K’thriss kid is terrified of me , of all things. He’s the creepy one!I was trying to dwell on that thought and figure out a way to convince him I wasn’t trying to torment him as I passed by dragon-boys loudly reverberating room. He snores so loud sometimes I’m not sure how he doesn’t wake himself up, much less anyone in the adjacent rooms. When I make it down the stairs, Propha is waiting for me at the bar, arms crossed. Poised.“What’s going on. You’ve been up guarding K’thriss’ door since before I woke up and then Rosie begged me to allow her to make a single batch of Cornerstones. Did he commune with something I need to know about? Is my Tavern in danger? Walnut! You know I’ve had this place for a long time. I have history here and I expect to know what goes on under its roof so I know how to handle it. So I know when to make them not exist under this roof.”“It’s… Not like that Propha. I.. I mean maybe he did something weird? It is K’thriss we’re talking about, but the person up there right now doesn’t answer to the name ‘K’thriss’ and is a…. Child?”The look she gives me makes my stomach do flips, and I can feel my bile boil under the increasing pressure of her gaze. She is taking a bite out of every word and chewing on them individually. Worse, she’s spitting them back out and seeing if they hold form. It’s as terrifying as it is impressive.“Uh huh.”That’s her whole response. Her posture and gaze do not shift, and for a few seconds I try to read the tension, waiting. It’s only when she shifts her stance to her other foot and leans slightly on the bar, that I know I passed the muster. I breathe.“Uhh. yeah. It - well, we saw a projection during our Wildcard License Exam of each of us in adolescence, and the kid up there looks pretty much just like that version of K’thriss. Except without the stubble.”She continues to look me dead in the eye and I fight all the inward compulsions I have to shift or flinch. This is the truth and it’s absolutely insane and if I find out this is some social experiment K’thriss did I’m going to wring his neck because Mielikki damn it I hate when Propha looks through me like this. He’ll be paying for MONTHS. And I can do that now, it’s my decision. After another half of a heartbeat, she nods, then walks behind the counter into the kitchen. “I guess given the circumstances that adds up. Maybe he misses his youth.” That was a thought I hadn’t considered, but thinking back, he also seemed very uncomfortable through that whole experience, so I can’t see how that would be true. She adds, “You two need that hot bean juice from Promise? I imagine Donaar is still sleeping and won't be having any?”“Uh yeah. On days like today I’m a little amazed you can’t hear him from here.”The tension relieved, I join her in the kitchen, keeping perfectly aware to stay out of her way, and just wait for her to be done brewing. A hand raises to her shoulder, waiting for the hand-off of the mugs and I do my part, handing one to her, then the other. Her eyes never leave her concoction, and it reminds me very much of Myd Wyfe. I quickly and silently do as requested, and step back into my place out of her way. To remain small in Her Kitchen .She turns and hands me the mugs, but doesn't let go right away and catches my eye again. This time it’s all strong mother, and less interrogation of a warrior. What she is about to say, I am meant to heed.“You think whatever he’s done can be reversed?”“Frankly, I’m not even sure what he’s done. Rosie and I are going to go over what we can and…”I shrug, like most things dealing with K’thriss, we have no idea what he could have attempted or what information he could have been keeping from us that could have lead to this sort of outcome.“We’ll figure something out. And if we don’t, I don’t know, I guess he can join the kids at Rosie’s Lighthou-Tree House,” I finish.She doesn’t betray her thoughts, but I have a suspicion that she’s hoping we just figure it out and fix it. Either way, she releases the mugs and I make my way back upstairs and walk though my still-open door and into the Meeting Room beyond.Unsurprisingly, Rosie is already there waiting for me. I hand her a mug and plop down across from her. She’s looking off into the direction of K’thriss’ door.“Well? Did he clarify… anything at all?” I say in a way I am certain dripped with a type of frustration I typically reserve for Donaar.“No,” With a sip she ponders, then looks to me. “There’s small things in his behavior that remind me of K’thriss, and certainly he looks like him as a child, but… he also acts very different from him. More skittish. If I didn’t know better I’d think he was trying to read the situation but doing it all wrong.” She chuckles coldly. “He asked me if there was a buyer, or if we were just bored.”“What?”She takes another sip before answering me with more pep than the words really dictated, “He thinks we kidnapped him to sell him as a slave! Can you believe that! HAH! I don’t know, you think we could get anything for a kid of a fallen Drow High House?”“ Grandmother !”She waves her hands in the air, “Oh you know I’m playing. We’re not going to sell him off. He’s our Warlock. And whatever he’s done to himself we need to figure out how to undo it.”Her words fluster me, but she’s also right. In moments like this I wish she’d be a little less playful, but she’s right. Verbally I agree, saying, “Whatever stupid thing he’s done we have to undo. Propha agrees, I think. She essentially told me to make sure we figure it out.” With a sigh, I continue, “I think it’s time to wake Donaar. Maybe his weird Divine Sense or whatever can figure something out.”She raises a brow to me. “You want to wake a sleeping dragon? That’s flirting with disaster, if I say so myself.”“Well! I’m the Decisionist now, and!-”“No, no, you’re right. But let me do the waking, I think he’ll need to be buttered up. I’ll go make his favorite pastries. It’s part of our deal anyway,” she groans as she hops off her chair and gathers her mug to walk downstairs.“And what is this deal you made with him? Should I be worried?”“Oh no sweetheart, it’s just a confectioners pact we’ve made. Don’t sweat a thing. Maybe check on our young friend if you feel up to it, but try not to spook him. He seems somewhat capable of doing that to himself.”If there is anything I don’t want to do, it’s check on a K’thriss that is younger than me. It’s backwards and wrong, and things are meant to be a certain way and -I found myself at his door anyway. I tried to avoid it. Went to my room, righted things to how they should be and not how they were when I was alerted that something was wrong by way of the odd sound from K’thriss’ room. Like a sound more odd than the usual sounds Ligotti makes, or when he drops something, or is tired and falls out of the knife instead of walking out safely. None of those things. I was alerted to a weird sound, I went to check, I saw a child in my… In K’thriss’ place and I got Rosie immediately.But I did not want to go back to that room and deal with him already. I tried organizing and reorganizing my room, but I don’t have very many things. So I went to check that Rosie’s door was safely secured and shut, then double checked that my own was closed this time. But nonetheless, at his - at K’thriss’ door is where I find myself. What I see inside is Thriss making the bed and setting the side-table with the tray and all his scraps. Everything has been cleaned non-magically to the best of his ability. It’s all tidy and proper. No stain, no sugar, not even any crumbs on the tray. Or, at least the area that he was occupying is tidy. The rest of the room is still K’thriss’ usual mess of books and paper and weird vials and collections.“Uh… nice job kid.”I was sure he’d seen me approach, but I see his shoulders twitch regardless. I’ve done nothing to this kid and he’s still terrified of me! Just great. So this Thriss really doesn’t remember anything about us at all, then. Wonderful . Pardon my own self-sarcasm.“Oh, uh… Thank you Warri-err Walnut… Dawngrass….?”He actually bows just slightly at me as he says that, and I am shocked, but accept it nonetheless because - okay because I was stunned. I mean, I’ve seen K’thriss bow for all sorts of weird things, but he’s never bowed to me. At least I’m pretty sure of that. And usually his bows are way more overly flourished. This one was stiff and formal. Practiced.Is his behavior because I’m a Wood Elf? Because he’s a Drow and I’m his enemy and he thinks we kidnapped him? Well, shit. That’s it, isn’t it? Well great, now what?“Uh.. Just Walnut is fine, kid.” Kid , I repeat in my head. “How old are you anyway?”“Oh! Uhm… Which.. Which calendar system do you use here? It’s not the Har’dro Drasven, right? Is it the Dalereckoning?”“The what? No, it’s the second. Is that first one some Drow nonsense, what does that even mean?”I’d have expected shock, since my tone came out more defensive than intended, but somehow this seems to comfort him. Some understanding passes his face but I couldn’t tell you what it was in response to. In some ways, I guess he’s just as weird as a kid as he was as an adult.“You’re right, of course, my apologies, the former is a common Drow calendar system that does not properly synch to the surface calendar, as it is related to geological occurrences as opposed to.. Uhm… seasons? That is the word, correct?”Yeah, very K’thriss. I just nod.“As to your question, in the years of the DR…” He pauses making some calculation in the air with his pointer finger and mumbling under his breath, “I think I’m between 40 and 50 years.”Oh god he really is just a child. I nod to at least allow him to see that I understood, but I have no follow-up question. He seems unsure what to do next, too. The silence is awkward and thick enough to make a meal out of. Great, my least favorite thing to deal with. Seeing as he has no intention to do.. anything, really, I just shift a bit in my place at the door. He’s just watching me, hands entwined in front of him. He looks like he’s waiting for something, and like my presence here seems to have completely thrown-off his idea of what he should be doing with himself. He just stands by the bedside table staring at me. Fine, I’ll take care of it.I clear my throat. “Well, good, anyway. Rosie is about to make some food for our other companion. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a Dragonborn bef-” Before I can finish his eyes widen and just barely I think a smile forms as though he is physically incapable of containing his excitement “-ore, but we… uh… yeah anyway, one of our … my employees is a Dragonborn. He can’t speak Elvish, just Common, Draconic and some other language. You don’t speak any of those, do you?”He shakes his head in the negative, looking a little dejected as a result.“Well, anyway, he’s something of an oaf, and he might get in your personal space, so if he bothers you.. I guess let Rosie or I know and we’ll put him back in his place.”I’m not entirely sure I sold that last bit, but he nods smally and I nod once firmly. I still feel a little weird about calling Donaar my employee, but he used to always say that about us, so I feel a little justified in paying him back… to a kid who can't understand Common and won’t be able to repeat it. It makes sense to me! It’s a victimless crime!And anyway, I’m dealing with a more immediate interaction with a kid that seems like a malleable K’thriss. It’s definitely weird, but I could see myself being convinced to like it.“So. Do they teach you any magic in Guallidurth?”His eyes widen fiercely, but then he shakes his head and looks down, nods, mumbles something to himself, looks up to me, then back down to the floor, and then opens and closes his mouth a few times before even attempting to respond. I can tell there is something he’s processing that seems way more complicated then the simple question I just asked him. I’m patient at first, but the longer he hesitates and stammers-on the thinner my patience grows. Finally, I open my hands at shoulder width, palm up and shake my head slightly trying to indicate ‘any day now’ but he looks to my hands and face and stops attempting to answer altogether. His whole expression changes. He squints at my hands, then looks at my face, watching the whole movement of my hands with the attention of a stalking wolf about to ambush it’s lunch.When I continue to hold the pose, he tilts his head and with his eyes looks between my hands and my face. He looks completely confused. “You want to do a coordinated strike on the surface? Are you… a Drow in disguise?”“ WHAT ?! No! That’s?!” I look to my hands, “Is that what you think this means??” I demand, holding my hands out towards him.Unfortunately my response was too assertive, and he’s jumped back nearly a foot at my outburst, bumping into the nightstand. I pinch the bridge of my nose to gather my thoughts, then temple my hands over my nose and mouth, mentally trying to formulate a way to fix this stupid misunderstanding. This whole thing is getting blown way out of proportion at this point and I’m afraid to say that I’m starting to miss Old K’thriss. Even if he is a crazy weirdo. Actually, especially the crazy weirdness. At least that kind of weirdness makes sense to me now, even when it doesn't. This kid is just all over the place. He’s a mess.“I take it back, I can’t get used to you like this.”“What? I don- is this some kind of riddle?”“No. It’s not a riddle, this is just-- Look, do you know magic or not?”“N-no! I.. I just know simple things, like Faerie Fire and Dancing Lights! I swear! I can learn, if you need me to know magic! I can study! I’m good at studying!”He adds something on the end of that in Undercommon, but it’s lost on me*, so I just wave my hands trying to calm him down, having somehow gotten him to enter some form of repentant state. He’s paled slightly and, while not making any grand gestures, I can tell he’s pretty clearly freaking out. Again, I see him looking intently at my hands, and I don’t understand why. Great. Now all I need is for him to blurt out something ridiculously stupid so I can just switch my attention to that instead.“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I overstepped. I.. I will await your punishment.”Well, be careful what you wish for, I guess. I attempt to ask him what this is supposed to mean, but then I realize he’s already making to kneel on the floor. Instead I grab his arms and force him to keep standing.“Could you not? Could you not overreact for like two seconds because we are not reading the same ledger and the reports don’t match. And why do you think I want to punish you. Just stop it. Time out. Go… sit on the bed or something. Sheish.”He does and I wipe my face and take a few steadying breaths, then push back my hair and breath deeply, holding it in my chest until it feels like it will burst out on it’s own.Then I release it, and take another.A quiet, even voice comes from him suddenly, and I open my eyes to look at him. What I see in his expression perfectly mirrors what I’m used to from his older self. Devoid of emotion I hear K’thriss speaking through his centuries-younger face, “So, then, you did capture me from my home; you stated familiarity with the city of my birth, Guallidurth. How did you do it?” His eyes meet mine again. “Largely I’m just curious. If it’s any consolation, I have very little attachment to the place. Males of my...”I see him glance briefly at his blue hands, resting on his knees, “Males of my House are often overlooked.”I don’t get this. I don’t understand him, I don’t understand what’s going on. He is like K’thriss, but he also is not. Is this what K’thriss was like back then? Did he.. Did he actually - of course he had emotions. What am I saying? I’m just so used to… who he became, I never really considered who he’d been… before.“No. We didn’t capture you. Or kidnap you. Or rescue you, for that matter. I… To be perfectly honest, we have no idea how you got here. See, this room,” I walk past him to K’thriss’ desk, “This room is that of a colleague of ours. You remind… us… of him a lot. He’s also a male Drow from Guallidurth. And.. I guess he also hates the place.” I pause for a moment, remembering our venture down there. “We helped him kill his mom, I guess?”His eyes go wide and I reel it in briskly, “I mean she was a Drider, and while we all technically attacked her, he was the one who - that doesn’t make it any better, does it?”His attention is rapt on me. I can’t tell if he’s more impressed or horrified.“Anyway, we left Guallidurth after getting something from the house of his family and then came back here. Uhh. I guess you did ask that earlier. Maybe I should tell you where we are?”This whole situation is ridiculous. As a way to distract myself from the fact that this kid-version of K’thriss probably still thinks his mother is alive, much less not a Drider, I explain to him the Dran & Courtier, Red Larch, and how we’re a part of Acquisitions Incorporated. For his part, he listens intently. Periodically I can see him scribe something into his palm, miming writing, perhaps his way of making a mental note of details. Largely, he keeps his expression mild. It takes a while, but when I finally am able to explain to him where Red Larch is in relation to the Underdark and Guallidurth, I can see amazement cross his face. He starts asking me many questions about the locations between the two, citing that I’d already mentioned having gone to Guallidurth with, as he says it, my ‘companion’.“And you are unsure how I arrived in the domai-domis... Uh, in the room of your companion?”“Not a clue, unfortunately. Our friend.. knows some magic, so maybe he can figure it out… if.. we can find the answers in his notes, I guess.”He looks around the room for these ‘notes’, then stands to head to a small pile of books in the corner near where he was seated. He flips through a few of them, glancing at the covers before opening them and flipping through a few of the pages then moving onto the next book, then the next. Finally he holds one up to face me. “Your companion can read all of these?”I glance at it, but the title is written in a language I don’t recognize.“Yeah, he has some creepy Warlock thing that lets him like, read everything and see through walls and stuff. I don’t even know. He does a lot of weird experiments in his - HIS KNIFE!”I spring into action, again startling the kid so that he drops all the books that were in his hands. At this point I don’t care, if we can find the knife, maybe we can get some answers. Maybe he’s still in there . “He always puts it in a place where it’s unlikely that someone will walk into it. Hey you!” I point back to him, “We’re looking for a knife about this long, black wood handle, probably floating in the air somewhere or in a safe place on one of his desks or shelves. Do you see it? It can be at any height.”I’m looking around the room, placing my face against the walls and trying to see if anything sticks out of them.“Damnit, K’thriss, there’s too much crap on your walls, I can’t see, ugh.”With a final spin I look around the room. It’s not here. Well, okay, not on his desk, not floating, so it could still be somewhere else. None of his other possessions disappeared when this kid arrived, so if we can find that knife and it’s floating, he could still be inside and we can figure this out. If we find it and it’s not floating, then this kid is probably him after all and we need to figure out how to reverse this somehow. And if it’s gone? Well...“We need to check the whole Inn,” I look at him and see him standing awkwardly in the corner, never having moved, holding a single finger from each hand in the air, those red Drow eyes opened wide in unspoken questions.“ What, kid? I know it’s confusing but trust me this is important.”“Oh! You misunderstand. I don’t doubt the importance, but, if I may, there were a few key things that went by in very quick succession there that I think could stand to be explained further?”I just look at him a beat, then snap, “Can it wait?”“Uh, I supposed it could, though, if I could impose, I would much rather it not?”With a flourish I throw my hands in the air and then plop on K’thriss’ bed. I consider flopping face first, but realize, for once, I’m the adult in the room, and decide to sit instead. “Fine, Go for it, kid. We have all the time in the world .”“Indeed. Uhm, first, you stated that he is a Warlock and can see through walls and read all words. I was unaware that Lolth granted any pacts, much less ones so seemingly, uhm, beneficial to the consigned. Could you elucidate?”“Oh. That. Yeah, Uhm…”“Not Lolth, then, I presume?” is his quick response. I grimace and he nods. “ Whom?” “Oh man, if only I knew. It’s some creepy space crystal monster god and I guess it’s not the one he thought it was and so there’s some shit going on there. It’s… complicated, okay? The one he likes is something he calls the UR, whatever that means.” I hesitate a moment, then ask, “do you know what it means?”“I’ve never heard of a deity called the UR. Is it a surface god?”“No, he found it’s altar underground, I think. Not far from your city, actually. But I don’t really know specifics. If we can somehow find him, you can ask.” I point to one of the many depictions on his wall, “That’s the symbol he uses for it, though. It’s on his focus, too.”He nods, “Second, if you think your companion is missing, why are you seeking a knife of his?”“Ohh, yeah. Wow, I keep forgetting that’s weird to most people. I’ve never been in there, but he has some like… arcane library inside some creepy knife that used to be his father’s. You have to like, stab yourself with it to enter, but he always comes out unhurt, so...” I shrug.“Follow up question to the second: He and his father studied the arcane? This was accepted in his House?”“Oh, geez, I don’t know. Why do you even ask that, don’t people use magic in the Underdark?”“Well, yes, but there are right and wrong ways to do that and in some families that is… contradictory to the established norm of the city at large. More a curiosity.”“Yeah you’d have to ask him again. I think he implied his dad made the knife to hide his own research, so I guess it was not accepted in his family. But really, I have no clue.”Again he nods. This interrogation is just like listening to K’thriss babble on, but this time I have to supply the information. At least I can smell the pastries, so Rosie must almost be done baking finally.“And lastly, a request for clarification. I may have been misunderstanding before but… do you call your companion… K’thriss?”“What? N-why would you even say that? I mean, your name is Thriss- you must have misheard - what makes you think that in the first place? Really? Pshh, no!”He actually waits a second and blinks at me a few times in awe. I turn 30 shades of red, having just embarrassed myself in front of this green-sapped Drowling.“Because you said ‘K’thriss’ when stating there was too much detritus obscuring your search for this arcane dagger. Why.. Why do you call him that?” His tone is very pointed and curious at first, but then he gets less certain as he continues, “I.. I can only, uhm.. I mean I don’t know what his name’s meaning might be but. I… the only way I have heard of a… ‘k’ before a name, was as a shortening of k’hil… which is… typically not regarded as a compliment. Do you worship the Spider Queen? Or is it because he does not follow your god?”“Goddesses and... neither? That’s how he introduced himself. I didn’t know it had any meaning other than-”“Walnut! Thriss! I have some goodies down stairs for you!” came Rosie’s sing-song from downstairs.“We’ll be right down Grandmother!... Like I was saying. We didn’t know it meant anything, at first. It was just what he told us to call him.”He looks like he is struggling to understand some part of what I just told him. He looks down to a point on the floor behind me and thinks on it, then nods. Looking back at me he starts again, “Supplemental question, you and that woman refer to her as a Grandmother. Do Surface Elves shrink as they get older, and is that why she has so much extra skin?”This one is so weird and out there that I am completely floored. After a good solid five seconds of staring at him in disbelief, I bark out a laugh and pat his shoulder. “Oh, kid. No. We call her grandmother because she is old and wise. She’s not an elf, she’s a halfling. But I’m definitely going to tell her you said that and see what she thinks.”“Oh no! I don’t think that is necessary. I don’t want to upset the Matron Grandmother.”“Oh boy, kid, I can’t wait to see you meet Propha.” Fan Art Provided by Knit-Pixy on Twitter! https://twitter.com/KnitPixy

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

I had summoned Walnut and ‘Thriss’ before Donaar because I’d heard too much scuffling about and was concerned that Walnut and the boy were having some Drow vs Elf issues. However, when the two descended the stairs, I saw that there was really nothing to be worried about.Walnut led the way in front of him, a little skip in her step which I recognized as the subtle way that she displays her mirth when something amusing is about to happen. She gives me a quick thumbs up and a nod as she makes her way to where I sit at one end of the table. ‘Thriss,’ following a measured pace behind her, squints as he enters the bright light that pours into the Common Room through the windows. When Walnut takes a seat across from me, he makes an attempt to stand between us and behind a chair adjacent to Walnut, rather than take a seat. Aside from his discomfort and her attempts to ignore whatever disagreement took place upstairs, I can see that there are no immediate fires to put out. I swivel in my seat and give a swift nod back to Propha and hop off my chair to make my way up the stairs.My movement and nod seemed to have been enough to change his focus from the table, Walnut and myself, to the bar where Propha stands vigilant. His gasp was a small sound, but it caught my ear nonetheless, and so I stopped my walk to turn to him. Walnut must have heard it as well, because past him I can see her also looking in his direction.I can totally understand when someone sees the power and strength Propha brings to the table.  So, naturally, whenever I think someone is paying her the due respect, I always have to puff up my own chest to give a good word about her, even though I know she’d never ask me to or even do the same herself. My inclination is always to be jovial, and respectful, but it’s nice to brag about important friends sometimes too. I mean, let’s admit it, Propha is a badass and people need to shout her name to all the realms and back! I don’t want to brag, but I think I’m a pretty good pitch about her general existence, so I always jump at the opportunity. Hearing this young ‘Thriss’ gasp excites me. Is a young K’thriss attracted to the strong paladin type? Does K’thriss actually have a crush on her, and just hide it very well? My heart swelled in my chest.But! That’s not what was going to happen in this situation. Of course. I should have known, but can’t help an old lady for trying. Luckily, I had enough presence of mind to stop myself before yammering at the boy.What stopped me was of course the sight of his skin becoming a pigment I’ve only seen on him - on K’thriss - once before. When Carver Gol informed him that we needed to go to his home city to retrieve something from his long-dead father’s study.A pale shade of lavender.He stands stock-still with his hands closed tightly by his sides, which is just exactly at my head height. His lips close so tightly I could honestly be convinced he doesn’t have lips at all, and never did.“Oh no.” I mutter a bit too loudly.“What’s wrong with him. Is he ill?” Propha calls to me in Common, lifting her chin to point in his direction.“Nnno… I’ve seen this once before on his… Much older self that we’re all a bit more accustomed to. I think he’s,” I waved my head back and forth chewing for the right word before looking at her and just saying it, “I think he’s terrified of you. But don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Just doesn’t know you, and, I mean, you know Drow. Scary boss matrons who subjugate... Basically everyone else around them. But maybe it will help if you speak Elvish. Seems that this version doesn’t speak Common yet.”She nods at that, “Smart kid.” I know she is referring largely to his presence of mind to be scared of her. If she’d had a concern that having this young Drow in her house would cause any issues, I imagine those have been vanquished. Rather than stay and converse with Walnut, though, she decides there’s no concern and to head to the kitchen where I can hear Auspicia working away in preparation for the days bustle.With a sigh, I head upstairs to fetch the only missing member of our little hodge-podge family. In part, I hoped that the smells from all of my baking would be enough to rouse him. I don’t know how often the others have seen it, but Donnar is something of a nightmare to wake in the morning. But hey, here I am asking myself to do Dark Work by waking the sleeping dragon, once again. At this point, it’s not even worth knocking before I walk in there. So with little effort or sound, I just walk on in and leave the door wide open to let the fresh scent of pastries waft into the room on my wake.“Donaar,” Always start with the singsong. It’s the perfect way to ease someone into something. It also makes a fun little game for me and I mean making things into a game is just a part of living, if you ask me. “Wakey Wakey! I have some wonderful treats for you to eat!” As I talk, I pull one of the recently baked goodies from a kerchief and place it close to his snout. “Only a Jinaari Prince who rises on time can get the best treats. Oh, not awake? That’s too bad, I guess Walnut, Thriss and I will just have to-”Before I finish the statement, the pastry is grabbed from my hand and stuffed into his great Dragonborn snout.“ DON’T YOU EVER OFFER MY PASTRIES TO THOSE-” “Oh good, so you are awake! Wonderfull! Rise and shine Documancer, we have some things to get done downstairs and we’re going to need you to get your things prepared, and that starts with a good breakfast!”I’m fairly certain he didn’t listen to any of what I just said, but I take no time silently making my way out of his room. I turn the corner, but as is my usual, wait at the threshold, just in case he was tempted to return to sleep. Luckily for me, it appears that the scent of pastries has wafted into the room sufficiently, and after the initial sounds of him fighting to remove himself from his sheets and get armored, he storms out of the room stomping his way to the stairs.“ WALNUT IF YOU EAT MY PASTRIES I SWEAR! AND THAT GOES FOR YOU TOO, K’THRISS! I SWEAR, YOU WON’T BE MY CHUCKLE CHUM AFTER THIS! NEVER AGAIN!” Seeing that this has gone about as well as expected, I get to the landing behind him and then Shadowstep to the table where the pastries are. I’m small, but I know my presence here will be enough to block him from both crashing into the table, as well as into our unprepared replacement Warlock.He’s eaten two full fistfulls before he notices the now-seated and more-normal-tinged-than-before teenaged K’thriss staring at him in awe. ‘Thriss’ has stopped mid bite and is just staring at the towering Dragonborn recklessly scorf down sugary pastry after sugary pastry before they even have a chance to cool.“Yo, Th’hell happened to you, man?” He finally says to Thriss with clumps of flaky dough falling from his mouth.“It’s not him, or we aren’t sure if it’s him, and he can’t understand you right now anyway. He only knows Elvish and Undercommon,” Walnut supplies shaking her head as if to imply he should have known this by looking at him.“Oh weird. Well he can just-” he puts two fingers to his skull, “- right?”“He’s also not a Warlock. Sounds like the only spells he knows are ones I think Drow are born with - Dancing Lights and Fairy Fire. He also knows we have a ‘companion’ named K’thriss, and he is very confused by that and I think it’s because K’thriss made it sound like his full name meant something bad? I think?” She looks to me for confirmation.I nod and remind my young friends, “If my memory serves, I think his name basically means something like non-believer and escapee of Drow. So, I think it’s understandable that he kept reacting the way he did when someone kept saying the name of our companion . Speaking of which, how does he know we have a companion named K’thriss, Walnut ? I thought we decided that we should probably not mention that on the off-chance he’s just some weird time-travelling version of our friend and we don't want to mess that up, now, do we?”“Look, I panicked! I’m sorry! I was trying to see if I could find K’thriss’ dagger anywhere but K’thriss has a lot of weird shit on his walls and I got,” she finishes the statement with a frustrated gesture of her hands.Young Thriss twinges each time the name ‘K’thriss’ is uttered, but seems to take extra interest in these gesticulations Walnut’s making. I watch his expression shift as she supplements her speech with her hands and see growing confusion on his face once she finishes. In Elvish he asks her what her gestures mean, and she struggles to explain how they don’t necessarily mean anything specific, more a general emotion and frustration. He seems perplexed by this, but nods, and finishes his pastry mindlessly while looking to the plate in front of him.Even as a child he is too slim. We’ll fix this problem one of these days, mark my words all you Powers out there. I will make this boy OR the man he became into a healthy weight individual or I will renounce my title as Grandmother.I return my attention back to Donaar, who has listened to what Walnut says with a sort of disinterested courtesy.“Well, why can’t we just turn him back. He is K’thriss. It can’t be that hard. There are ways to remove spells and stuff, right? So obviously we can just find someone who can just do that.”“We thought you would be able to do that,” Walnut stabs at him with her words. “ You’re the Paladin!”He puts one hand on the table and leans in towards her, other hand firmly holding three more pastries. “Hey, I mean, I am the best, but I don’t know every single spell out there! Why don't you know it? I’ve seen you use healing spells as well!”The confrontation has young Thriss pale a bit more and he scoots his chair back as both of them make to stand and begin shouting in each other’s faces.“Children, dears, sweethearts!” They both growl and stare at each other a moment longer, then Walnut turns, then Donaar.“I win,” He whispers under his breath and she responds with a quick turn and a growl.“Wonderful. Now that I have both of your attention,” I use my hands to gesture to the chair beside me where Thriss has his hands white-knuckle-grasping the tabletop and has scooted a full foot away from each of them. “But I believe you’re both just making matters worse. Donaar,” he nods and I continue, “Walnut earlier had implied that you might be able to get some answers with Divine Sense? Is that possible?”He lifts his hand from the table and looks up, scratching his scaly chin. Walnut goes back to sitting, now that the tone has been knocked down. Thriss still looks terrified, but seems to understand that something I said calmed them, and looks to me with wide eyes. He nods quickly and then returns his gaze to the table, downcast and meek. After I deal with Donaar, I’ll need to see what’s on his mind. Hopefully Walnut didn’t accidentally convince him that we did kidnap him.“I mean, I’ll be able to tell if he’s evil, for sure. And if you guys think it’s a spell, I can get rid of that. But I don’t know if there is much else I can think of that could help.”“Those sound like wonderful places to start, dear! Let me just clue him in to our little plan and make sure he’s okay with us casting magic on him, alright?”I put my finger up in the air in the universal “one minute” sign and keep it held out to Donaar as I turn to Thriss and switch to Elvish, “Hey sweetheart. Is everything alright?”He hesitates, then turns to me, then my hand. From there he looks to Walnut, who is sitting with her arms crossed. As his gaze returns to me he replies, “does this mean something?”He’s pointing to my hand. “I’m not sure what you mean, dearie. Do you mean this?” I shake my hand, but keep it in the pose to make sure Donaar still waits.He nods.“Oh of course it does. I told Donaar to wait a moment so I could talk to you. Holding my hand this way means to ‘wait a minute’ though I guess it never actually is a minute, sometimes it’s longer. But it means to wait. Does it mean something different where you’re from?”He shakes his head in the negative, “but it’s similar to one. Uhm.. But. I don’t think Surface beings are supposed to know the Salk De’rahi.” As he says this last part, he raises his left hand slightly and makes a fist. A weak one, but a fist*. I go to ask him about the gesture, but he continues, “So some hand movements… are Salk De’rahi and others are… not?”“I think that depends on what Salt Der Ahee means. Could you explain it to us?”I can see Walnuts ears have been perking as we talked, so I decide to include her into the conversation. At the invitation to engage, she turns to look at us, but keeps silent for the time being.“Uhm. It means. Wait. There’s probably Elven words that are similar…”He looks down thinking it over, then looks back to me, “I think the closest words are Dancing Hands. Or maybe Dance of Hands. It’s… gestures?”I can see him squirm a little as he describes it, as though he is trying to intentionally leave it vague. Unfortunately for him, I’ve dealt with my fair share of rogues and thieves, and though I don’t know the language itself, I do know there are ways to talk without being verbal at all.“Like your own little Thieves Cant, then. Where you use your hands to talk? Okay.”“ OOooooh!” comes the understanding from Walnut, “Is that what this is about?” She unfolds her arms and holds her hands up so that he can see them. “Is that why you keep looking at my hands so much? You think I’m saying stuff while I’m talking?”He looks to her, then me again. The trapped animal. “I mean… Yes. We have…” And with this he uses his hands in conjunction with his words, I try to follow along. “There are ways to tell if what is said-” fingers from both hands meet the corresponding fingertips of the other hand, but steepled and splayed pointing ahead of him** “-if your words mean what you intend-” he butterflied his hands so the pinkies touch, palms upward “- or if you are saying them in a way to confuse spies-” one hand makes a fist with the pointer extended and is covered by the other. He puts both his hands into the first position. “It’s… because sometimes they can’t hear you, or can’t see your hands. Without both, they don’t know what you’re saying.”“Is THAT why he’s always fidgeting his hands so much?” Walnut says, looking at me baffled.I wouldn’t have guessed it, but looking back it certainly makes sense.“If your companion is a Drow, it’s possible he still does it,” the tone in his voice here is different than I’ve heard so far. It exemplifies how young he still is, in how much lighter it gets when his excitement shows. I guess knowing there is another Drow who can speak with you is probably a comfort in a place so jarring to him as an inn on the surface.Donaar makes a cough and looks at me with a bit of annoyance, asking in Common “why is it taking so long to get a yes or no from Kid’thriss.”Sighing, I press onwards, “In any case, we can talk more about gestures and hand signs in a bit. Donaar wanted to know if it would be OK to use a spell real quick so we could see if there was any evidence of magic used on you? Figure out.. Maybe how you got here or what happened to you. Would that be alright? You have my word that it will be completely safe. Won’t hurt a bit!” I repeat the last part in Common as I give a slow look over to Donaar with a pointed “ Right? ” added on the end for good measure.Donaar assures me that it’s just a sense and he’s the one that usually gets gut-punched by it, so with a shaky nod from young Thriss, I tell Donaar to give it a shot.Gobbling down the last of his pastries - the last of all the pastries - Donaar turns to the young Thriss and cracks his knuckles. He closes his eyes for a second and touches the symbol of his god on his chest. With the usual flair this spell causes, small glittering reflections shine on Donaars scales and he looks around the room and at Thriss.“Well, I mean, I don’t think he’s evil, if that helps. I don’t think hes good either. So kinda like regular Big’Thriss. I...hmm, I mean there is something about him that is weird, but I can’t tell if its good or bad or some other kind of sense.”“Way to be specific, Donaar,” Walnut cracks, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms again.“ LOOK, it’s weird! There is something around him or connected to him, but I don’t think it’s magic. Or if it is it’s really weird magic - which, I mean, I guess would be totally on brand for him.”I step in before these wonderful children I work with can start another scuffle, “Is there anything you can try to test if it is or isn’t magic? I know normally this would fall to our wacky Warlock, but seeing as he’s left the premises for the moment, I think we’ll need some alternatives.”I let Walnut and Donaar mull it over for a second.Walnut speaks first, a bit softly, “I mean I can try Dispel Magic, but if he’s not affected by magic that’s not going to do anything.” She looks to me for answers, “What do you think, Grandmother?”I shrug and look at young Thriss, then Donaar, “I mean at this point I think it’s worth a try. Donaar, can you Detect Magic or use Divine Sense or anything to keep an eye on him while she casts it and let us know if you see any changes?”“Sure thing!” He looks to Walnut, puffing his chest, “See, she wants me to watch because I’m the only one smart enough to be able to pick up on all that magic nonsense.”“ As if.” Walnut snubs him and turns toward the young Drow, explaining to him what she intends to do. He seems uncomfortable with it, but agrees to let her do her work anyway. Frankly, it’s a good thing he agreed because if not then we’d have to find a way to distract him and just do this anyway. I’m good with children, I have a lot of them - no Drow, yet - but my my. Recalling how to deal with a child that isn’t yours in a situation like this.. Have to admit, it might be a first for me. And if he really is our K’thriss, we’re not going to do well as a franchise having to retrain him, we need to just revert whatever happened as quickly as possible.As Walnut Dispels Magic in the area, I look to Donaar, who is taking his job very seriously at the moment. I actually see that he’s quickly taken out a torn piece of scribbled-on paper and is ready to write! I have to admit, seeing him take this job with any measure of seriousness has been the the most encouraging sight. I know he doesn’t enjoy it as much as Walnut did, but I think this could be a very good learning experience for him. I’ll just keep checking his ledger every night after he goes to sleep to make sure he’s not sending Omin the wrong information or leaving things out. I mean, it can’t be that bad to remind him of things in the morning in an offhanded way, surely?As I finish making my mental note about Donaar, I notice that Walnut is struggling with her spell. She grunts and then makes a few hand gestures, putting one hand on Foremother, which begins to glow at her touch. I watch as Donaar ignores an ample opportunity to mock Walnut over this, and is instead looking at young Thriss, and then seemingly following some insect fly away from him up and into the ceiling. Thriss clutches his chest for an instant, and I cannot tell if it’s in fear or pain. When I put my hand on his elbow and he looks down to me from his chair, I see he’s afraid, but unharmed.“Matron Grandmother, what are they doing? I thought she was just going to dispel something? Why is she holding a sword?” he pleads to me in Elvish.“Because it’s not working” interjects Walnut in Common as she finally gives up the effort. “I was doing everything right and I could feel it  take shape, but it couldn’t reach him. It was like-” she gesticulates up into the air and in his general direction, “-like there was some anti-magic field around him or something!”“Dude, you saw that, too?” Donaar looks back at us. “Listen... I don’t exactly know how to describe it because I think this is really the the kind of weird creepy stuff that K'thriss loves, but there is some connection to him and… And something , but I don’t… think that something exists anymore?”“Donaar. What the hells is that supposed to mean?!” Walnut seems to be growing irate with his inability to tell us what is happening. I’m not sure I understand, either, but I do know that when K’thriss gets into something, he gets into it a little too deeply sometimes, and that’s just unfortunate for the rest of us.“ I DON’T KNOW. I don’t think he’s K’thriss, I guess? Like there’s something weird. Are you sure this isn’t like.. K’thriss’ kid or something?”For a moment, Walnut and I are silent. I guess neither of us thought to actually ask who his parents were. My best guess is that none of us actually know the names of K’thriss’ parents, either. I don’t remember him ever saying his father’s name, and he only mentioned his mother's name that once after we slew her. I decide to take an approach that I think is a bit more direct and just ask if he was named after his father. His response is a physical disgust, followed by a direct and firm no. After his immediate reaction a shadow passes over him, and he looks away from me. Very very far away. Deep into the grain of the wood that makes up the floor.Ah Crap.“Hey guys, did K’thriss ever tell us how old he was when his father was killed?” I ask my companions in Common, though I keep my arm on young Thriss’ elbow.“No? What’s that have to do with anything?” Blurts Donaar and looks at the child again.“ Ohhh . You don’t think. No way. Grandmother…” Walnuts voice gets lower and she leans in towards me, though she knows he cannot understand us in Common. “You don’t think..?”“You saw his reaction to me asking his father’s name.”“Yeah but he looked offended -”I cut her off, “Yes, offended that I thought he was named after a father… in a matriarchal society that pays very little regard to their men. You heard him talking about himself earlier. We’ve all heard K’thriss talk about it that way, too - especially when we were in the Underdark. It’s the second reaction that’s the one I’m worried about. This,” I end gesturing to him with my free hand. He remains staring at the floor. Walnut’s gaze follows my hand, and I watch her face.She watches him, then wrinkles her nose before whispering, “is… is he crying ?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“What are you talking about, K’thriss doesn’t

cry

why would you think-” as I turn my head to look at Kid’thriss, I realize I said something wrong, which is going make me look stupid. “Well, shit. Look at that. Huh!”

I’m not good at understanding mammals. Like, I know Dragonborn

can

cry, but we usually

don't

. But then neither does K’thriss, it's something we have in common… though I guess Rosie and Walnut don't really cry either... Anyway, since I haven't exactly seen a lot of people crying, I don’t exactly know how to get someone to

stop

, and I can’t exactly talk to Kid’thriss, because he’s too dumb to understand me, apparently, so I guess I have to leave this to the Elf-speakers.

I look to Rosie and just shrug and point. “Should we… do something about that?”

Walnut breaks her slack-jawed stare of him and clears her throat, sitting up straight again, but also looks to Rosie with a grimace and a shrug. Lucky for us, Rosie is good with this sort of thing. She softly pats his arms a few times so that he snaps out of whatever he was staring at. He must have forgotten where he was, or something, because as she steps in front of him he jumps a little in his seat. The guy’s a freaking mouse or something, he’s scared of

everything

. She pats his hands and starts saying something to him that Walnut nods to.* Walnut says something too, but it actually sounds like she’s trying to be really nice? Whatever they’re saying, I don’t like it. Walnut isn’t supposed to be nice to people, especially new people. She's not even very nice to me or K'thriss, usually. It's Gross.

Kid’thriss sniffles for a second, then wipes his eyes on his sleeves.

Since he’s used his sleeve, I take a second to notice that he’s wearing kinda fancy clothes. As I look at it, I speak up,“You know, we should probably change him out of that outfit. It’s got… got a lot of weird spider images all over it. I mean! Not that I have a problem with spiders, or anything, but like, a Drow probably shouldn’t be wearing that kind of stuff just out and about, right? I mean, it looks like expensive clothes, so maybe we can sell it or whatever. I dunno. I’m just saying.”

It’s definitely

definitely

not because I hate spiders and I don’t want to be staring at them on his outfit all day or anything. Absolutely not**. Definitely also has nothing to do the fact that the last place we went that had a lot of spiders in it,

I was killed in.

Yep, definitely don’t see a problem here! Nothing to look at, keep moving.

“Ugh, you have a good point,” Walnut mumbles. She looks over to me, “Do you think he’ll fit in any of K’thriss’ clothes? He’s a little bit smaller than him.”

“Does K’thriss even

have

extra clothes lying around that he can wear? I think I’ve only seen the guy in the same outfit every day. Or naked.”

I mean, it’s true. I’m pretty sure he just has the one outfit. Pretty much like the rest of us. But he does bathe, as far as I can tell, so… Maybe he just has a lot of the same exact outfit and just wears his cloak over it all?

“Only one way to find out I guess,” Walnut stands. “Come help me look, maybe we can see if we can find his weird knife while we’re at it.”

“Ugh,Grandmother-”

“I’m a bit busy at the moment, Donaar. Please go help Walnut.”

“Yeah, I’m the

Decisionist

now, so… Let's go. Three to one.”

She says it to spite me, I just know it. Her heart isn’t in it and she hurts herself when she says it. Two can play at this game.

Before I get up I make a show of filling out a lot of information on some paper, “Oh wait, I forgot, I need to write this all down in

my ledger

. Gotta keep the boss-man happy or whatever.”

I whistle.

She storms off.

I actually do write some stuff in the ledger though. I don’t really know what I’m

supposed

to write in it, so I just settle with bullet points:

Something happened to our sweet warlock boy
We’re going to invade his privacy and see if we can find out what happened
We have a weird kid that looks like K’thriss here
It’s weird. But I’m on the job so we’ll figure it out.
Make me Decisionist again

I figure that’s probably enough information, so I fold up the book and a few papers fall out. I figure that if they were important Walnut will probably pick them up later. I also leave the book on the table because I don’t feel like carrying it right now. I

do

follow Walnut up the stairs and meet her in K’thriss’ room. And I’ll say, good on her, she wasted no time getting into his stuff. Unfortunately, I also have some stuff tucked away into this room.

“Hey, what are you doing over there? Oh clothes right? Cool, I’m just going to check over here real quick. K’thriss probably puts things in weird places,” I hum loudly and shift to the other side of the room and carefully open the little hole in the wall I hide some of my gold. Looks like it's all accounted for,”Well darn, nothing here.”

Both of my secret stashes look like they are still totally safe, so I start going through his other drawers and find the cloak he used to wear before he got the starry one he wears now. I throw it over my shoulder and continue poking around. I don't think K'Thriss knows how drawers work. They're all mostly empty, but he has piles of shit on his desk and floor.

After not really finding anything else, I stand up and open the cloak to show her. “Unless we want to make him paper mache clothes, I think this is about the best we're gonna do.”

“I mean, it’s not an outfit, but it might cover the one he’s got on,” she nods, having finished looking through the other dresser.

“Yeah. It’s going to be too long for Kid’thriss, though. He’s like, really small for some reason,” I turn to her. “Hey, how old do you think he is? He’s like… small and doesn't have facial hair. And what’s with his hair being white like Big’thriss’ was in that Wildcard test thing?”

She’s still rummaging through his stuff and looking behind posters for something. I use her distraction to stand on one of my hiding spots and put the cloak in front of the other.

“Well, he says he’s between 40-50 in DR years, but had to do a math conversion from some dumb Drow calendar, so who knows. And the hair thing.. I mean. I was always told that all Drow had white hair, so K’thriss has kinda always been the weird one to me. To be honest, when we met him I

almost

thought he could have been a mix between a Moon Elf*** and a Drow, but his eyes and light sensitivity kinda tipped me off that he was just Drow right away.”

“Oh really? Huh” I was only half-listening, but I guess it adds up. She’s still looking for something. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for his

knife,

you dingus!”

“OH RIGHT.” I take a quick look around the room. “Well I don't see it in here, maybe we should look somewhere else?”

“

You DIDN'T EVEN LOOK!”

“I JUST DID! LOOK, I’LL EVEN DO IT AGAIN, watch,

” and I do. I sweep my head from left to right and look at everything in the room. “He uses that stupid knife all the time! If he was in it or not using it and left it, it’d be somewhere obvious. He’s not exactly good at hiding things, and frankly I don’t even think he tries.”

“How do

you

know that?”

“Duh, because we’re best buds. What, you telling me you

didn’t

know that?” I pick up the cloak and walk past her and mumble, “gee, some

Decisionist.”

I hear her take a deep breath and growl at me, but I mean, was I wrong? No. So instead of responding to her grumpiness, I head downstairs with the cape. She leaves right after me and slams the door behind her as she and goes into her room. I think I hear the second door slam, so I guess she’s in the Meeting Room now. Cool. She can look in there. Just stay away from my gold!

Downstairs I see that Rosie’s gotten Kid’thriss to chill out again and given him some kind of tea. She’s doing that thing where she tells you a story and laughs a lot and touches your arm and you’re pretty sure the story has no moral but she tells it anyway and then you kinda stop listening because it gets boring, but you nod anyway because Rosie’s nice… Most of the time. He’s putting on a good act, though, I’ll admit. He looks like he’s paying really good attention and watching her tell the stories. He’s watching her hands a lot, too. That’s pretty weird, but I saw him doing that earlier, and I mean Big’thriss had his own weird things that he did, so really is it even weird at this point? I don’t know. Probably, but what are ya gunna do about it, right? Until he starts casting weird spells, I don't really care. And even then I might not care. I can take him.

I walk up to them, but Rosie ignores me. After a minute I just talk to her anyway. I can’t tell when a sentence ends, so I just interrupt right in the middle of a word.

“We couldn’t find anything other than his old cloak. I mean, aside from all the dumpster stains on it, it seems pretty fine. It’s less torn up than the one he usually wears, at least.”

She pauses, then says a few more words that I can't understand, then looks at me, and smiles. I always get the best smiles from Rosie. She doesn’t smile at anyone else the way she smiles at me. I know! I’ve looked to make sure!

“Oh wonderful! I’m sure this will be just fine.” She puts it on her lap and looks back at him. I think she continues her story, because she's saying a lot, but he isn't saying anything.

At this point, I feel his eyes staring at me, so I look over to him. For once, I actually catch someone in the act. He’s not even pretending to look away. He just looks right at me while he holds the steaming mug in- okay wait, he holds his mug really weird.

“Does Big’thriss do that?” I ask Rosie and point right at his hand.

I think he must have thought I was about to stab him with my impressive claws, because he moves his hand away quickly and that just causes him to spill some hot whatever on himself. Doesn’t change his gaze though. Looking right at my hand. Good on him.

With a sigh, Rosie stops her story again. “I don’t know, Donaar. I don’t think so, I think he holds his mug like a normal person.”

“He’s holding it kinda like… like a dragon claw or something. Aren’t mammal hands all squishy and soft though? How doesn’t he burn his hand?”

After a few seconds where she just stares at me, she replies “Do you really want me to ask that?”

“Yeah! I’m curious.” I sit down on his left, across from Rosie. His eyes follow me. I mean, I know I talk about how people are always looking at me, but he really needs to stop it. I can't tell if he thinks I'm cool or if he thinks I'm some kind of freak and I'd really rather he just not have to make me think about it. Big’thriss is a lot easier to read, because he pretty much just interested in everything. I

know

that's a good thing with him. But with this guy I can't do my normal schtick because he can't understand me! I can't let Rosie know that it's bothering me though, not yet, not so soon after that time in the Wildcard Exam. I'm not a baby, and I'm not going to make a scene in front of this baby K'thriss.

I decide to stare right back at him. But more puffed up. Impressive. If I can't talk to him, I'll just be imposing instead. That should get the point across! I'm a big resplendent dragon boy -

man

. Resplendent dragon man.

Rosie touches his elbow and starts talking.

Finally,

he looks back to her. He keeps taking glances back at me, but at least he isn't staring anymore. She hands him a napkin and he dries himself, but never puts his mug down, just dries himself with his left hand****.

After a little back and forth she finally turns back to me and tells me, “He called it the ‘Mother’s Grasp’. I guess it’s just how they hold mugs down there. It’s supposed to resemble Lolth-”

“What, like a spider? That’s lame. I thought it was a dragon claw.”

“Yes. He also said it’s a great way to insure that someone doesn’t try to slip poison into your cup, since the, oh, how did he say it… The mother’s grasp is firm and cold, she knows when the, hmm, when others falsely use her name - or something like that. He did agree that the mug is a little hot, but the mugs where he is from are shaped differently. There you go. Any other useless information you want me to ask him, or are you going to go back and help Walnut look for K’thriss’ knife?”

Oh no, I got Rosie mad. Well that sucks. “Nope! I’m good! Just about to head on up there. See you... In a bit then.”

“Sounds great, dear. Have fun.”

She says the words, but I’m pretty sure she’s just ignoring me at this point. I kinda hate when she does that, but I guess I’m supposed to go help Grumpy look for this old ratty knife now.

I take my time heading for the stairs, checking first to see if Propha has any food ready that I can pilfer, but not yet. Winter is slow season for the inn, so she doesn’t really get many people. Based on the smell and the size of the pots they’re using, I think she’s probably just making some winter soup for Rosie’s Tree House kids. Lame. If it's any good, I'll try to steal some later.

Upstairs I find Walnut in the Meeting Room, but it looks like she’s given up. She’s sitting at the small table and has her head buried in her arms on the table. She’s also making irritating groaning sounds.

“No luck, huh?”

With a jolt she sits upright and angrily stabs the middle of the table, punctuated by her words, “It’s just

not here.

It’s NOT HERE. I looked everywhere in his room and this room and he’s never in anyone else’s room that I’ve ever seen except for that one time you both were naked in your room. And he didn’t have the knife that time!

It’s not here

!”

“

OKAY!

I get it, jeeze, calm down already. Look, like I said, this

Kid

’thriss is probably not

K’

thriss, so maybe he’s just not home right now?”

“And where the hells would he be, then? It’s

cold

outside and I don’t think he has a warm cloak. Unless the

Lizard King

is supposed to keep him warm somehow.”

“Look, I don’t know! I’m just saying, if it’s not here, then he probably isn’t either. That knife is like his baby. He loves that stupid useless-weapon.”

She doesn’t respond to that. I get it, I'm frustrated, too, and that's the real crime here. K’thriss doesn’t usually disappear like this, so it is a bit weird, but at the same time,

the guy’s weird

, so like, I don’t know. He should have told me, though. That's the least he could've done as my special buddy. Really, this is all just a big inconvenience on my end. I'm going to have a talk with him about this later.

She raises her hands up in frustration and keeps them suspended at her head height over her shoulders. I think this is what she does when she's mad or something. She does it a lot. She's also mad a lot.

“Well, I don’t know if you looked outside at all yet, but it snowed last night. So if he went anywhere, he’s probably not going to enjoy it very much. It’s bright and cold.”

I shrug, “Who says he’s outside?”

“What, you think he just went on a shopping spree?”

“I mean, he is the Hoardsperson. Maybe he went to buy something for the team? He has all of our

gold

, remember? I hope it’s pie.”

“

Pie?

No. He might have our gold but he never

uses

it. I don’t even think he

likes

it,” usually when she uses this tone it's annoying, but she's making a good point...This time.

“No,” I agree. Because sometimes we actually do agree, “but I do bet he likes keeping track of it.”

“I

guess

.”

We go quiet again. This time for longer. Maybe forever. It gets awkward, is what getting at. We're not really sure how to talk to each other when we're not building a giant fire and ice robot.

“Rosie wanted me to help you look. If we have nothing to look for, what do you think we should do next?”

“Well..” She looks out to her door for a moment, “I can always send a bird to the Grovekeeper, but…” She doesn’t add anything to that.

I’m not a super big fan of the Grovekeeper, you know, since she

killed

me once, and all. I’m not a fan of this idea, so I'm not going to push for it… At all. She doesn’t seem to want to push for it either, though. I sit down and just hope she comes up with something so I don't have to.

“Do you think he really is K’thriss, or at least what K'thriss was like when he was a kid?” She asks me soberly, and looks up.

“... I… honestly don’t know. Big’thriss was pretty freaked out when we were in the Underdark. Like, Kid’thriss really reminds me of that. A lot. But instead of it being one time like with Big’thriss, it's just

all

the time.”

“He

cried.

Donaar, that kid

cried

. We all saw it.”

“Yeah. Sometimes people cry!

I

don't, but I can understand that some people do. I mean, imagine if you were suddenly without a home in a weird place with people you don’t know, without your parents and stuff, and are just a kid- oh wait!”

She glares at me and gets up. “You're an asshole, sometimes, you know that?!”

“Yeah, and I'm also

right

sometimes, so. What about that?”

She's still mad, but sits back down again anyway. “Sure, whatever makes you happy.” She puts her cheek in one hand and looks to K'Thriss' door, pouting. Again silence. I follow her gaze to my sweet boys door.

“Something big happened to him -

this version

of him, I mean. The young one. Something… bad happened before he got here. That thing when Rosie asked about his father…” she said quietly, before trailing off.

“So that’s something I don’t get, right,” I start, leaning in, “Kid’thriss and K’thriss have talked about how they have a weird evil spider matriarchy, right, but when K’thriss found his father’s study in his old house, and especially that study knife it was like… I don’t know. But it meant a lot to him. He is in that thing almost every single day. And I don’t think it’s just for studying. So like, if you think he’s upset about his dad thing… I don’t know, wouldn’t that be a bad thing, where he’s from?”

She folds her hands in front of her and looks them a little while, then twiddles her fingers. “I guess maybe that’s why he changed his family name, and not just his first.”

Oh, right. He did that didn’t he? Well, that certainly means something. Probably. Unless it doesn't. He could have changed that name for all sorts of reasons. For one, it was really hard to pronounce, or at least I think it was, I forgot it pretty quickly. So I guess that also must mean that it was forgettable. Those are pretty good reasons, if you ask me. Drow’b is really easy to remember. Because it's just his race with a ‘b' at the end.

She shakes her head and sits back up again, laying her hands flat on the table. “Well, in any case, since we don't know what kind of stuff he got into in that knife of his, I don't think it's a good idea to rule out that he transformed himself or switched places with himself or something equally bonkers.”

“I'm betting you that's not what happened.”

“And I'm

telling

you I don't want to rule out the possibility, yet! So before we get into another argument, where else are we going to look for this thing?”

I stand up slowly, “I know where I'm going to look - in my bed. Asleep. Bye.”

I turn and start heading to the door but she heads me off. “Oh no you don't. Rosie told you to help me, so you're going to help me! We're going to search

everywhere.”

“Are you freaking kidding me? Whyyyyy. It's not here, you said so yourself!”

“I said here. This room. There a whole inn to check now. Let's

go

!”

“Uugh!” is all I manage to respond with. I don't think it went on long enough for her to really understand how annoying she was being, but it was close enough.

We spend the next four hours going through everything. Every step of the way I have to carefully keep her from finding one of my stashes. She almost found three of them-

three!

And she's starting to get suspicious, so I'm probably going to have to move some of these, now.

Great.

Whenever we figure this whole thing out, remind myself to get mad at K’thriss for causing this mess.

When we finally finish it's past lunchtime. Rosie has been scooting Kid’thriss around behind her like a little duckling all day. He seemed more chilled every time we passed him, but he still glances at me a lot. When Walnut catches him looking at her, though, he quickly looks away and skuttles closer to Rosie. As if Walnut might bite him… actually, maybe she would. So I guess that's not a bad reaction to have in regards to Her Grumpiness.

When Walnut and I head downstairs to check on food - I mean Rosie - I mean whatever food it is that Rosie is cooking, I notice that he's sitting awkwardly at the bar by himself. He keeps peering into the kitchen, like he's curious, but was either told not to go in, or, understandably, didn't want to be asked to help.

Walnut goes in, asking Rosie if she needs any help, and while Rosie

says

no, she also asks Walnut to get some kind of plate for her.

I sit next to Kid’thriss. He jumps in his seat and all of his attention is on me now. I put on my most sparkly Dragonborn smile and wave at him.

“Hi.”

Nothing. I don't even think he blinks.

“So, you don't understand Common, huh? That's a shame. We could be having a conversation right now.”

He blinks, but that's it.

I frown, “Well, I hope Walnut's wrong, because you're going to be a lot more boring to talk to in the back of the cart when I'm

not

sleeping.”

He glances to the kitchen then back at me and shakes his head. He also says something, but hells if I know what.

He does that thing with his eyebrows that mammal humanoids do when they're thinking and looks down, then around the room. His eyes light up and he heads over to my Documancer Ledger, then points at it, saying… something.

I shrug, ain't got anything better to do until the food is done.

“What is it boy?”

He says some words and then makes a few hand gestures where he points at himself and his hand a few different ways, but I don't get it. *~

He makes a face that I guess is grumpy, then points too the book, picks up my quill and mimics using it over my book.

“You want to write? I mean, I can't read your writing, either.”

He blinks, but it's clearly waiting for something. I get a little curious, so I nod and then open the book to a random page. I'm sure no one will notice if it's in the back-ish of the book, right? I'm pretty sure that's how it works. Besides, once I'm Decisionist again, I won't need this stupid book anymore, anyway.

He sits down at the table and pulls my ink closer to him and starts… drawing? Holy shit, he's not bad*~~. I didn't know K'Thriss can do this. Is that why he always carries that ratty journal with him? He draws something dark first, and is almost using the quill like a paintbrush. I'm super smart, so I realize he must be drawing the city that we visited in the Underdark, but as it was when K'Thriss was a kid. Like how this Kid’thriss knows it. Next he draws a few things in less detail. Looks like a mountain, then maybe a grassy field, then what I think are trees, a lake or pond or something like that.

When he puts the quill back into the ink he looks at the drawings, grimaces, shrugs then looks at me. He points to the Underdark one, then himself, then points to me.

That's fucking smart.

I point to the mountains.

He smiles, then turns back to the book and writes something under it and says a word. Probably how to say mountain in Drow, or whatever. He pushes the book to me, then places the ink and quill by me also.

“I dunno, I'm not much of a paintist… but why not, I'm the best, so I'll be good at this too! Probably?” I take a seat and try to think of a question that I think I'll be able to draw. I start with a big Dragonborn, and a slightly smaller one. It's barely better than a stick figure, and next to his I'm getting really self conscious, but I continue. Over my dad's head I draw a big crown, over my mom's a little, darker one. Then under them I draw all of my siblings. Next to the one that represents me, I write my name.

“Donaar. That's me!” And I point to myself.

I don't expect the little pinch in my heart that drawing them all causes, but I smile through it, then push the book back over to him, before I can think about it.

“What's your family like?”

He stares at the page a bit, then nods. He starts drawing a Vars-Damned

family tree

. I notice that it branches a few times. Over the head of one of the women in the middle of the tree, he draws a spider, then under her a boy and a girl. The boy looks like him.

“Thriss,” he says, then points to himself. I look at the picture. I guess he drew in all his aunt's and uncles into this picture- wait.

He didn't draw his dad.

Well shit, I guess that answers that. As I look over the family tree, I see one or two other women who have children but no person drawn for the father. I also notice one woman with two men but no kids. I point at her and raise an eyebrow. He looks at her and says what I'm going to guess is her name, then shrugs. I think it's the kind of shrug that means ‘so what’ when other people use it, but I've never seen K'Thriss use it so it's a little weird.

I am really curious about confirming his dad situation, but that might mean I have to explain mine, and while I could definitely draw that… I don't want to.

I point to the book again, then him.

“Your turn. You answered my question.”

I'd like to think me talking to him out loud is teaching him Common, so I will. He seems to understand and puts his hand in his chin for a second. When he gets an idea he starts drawing again.

It's a whole lot of mushrooms. And I don't mean like cute mushrooms like a kid should draw, I mean the gross accurate drawings you'd find in a textbook or something.

When he's done he points to it, and then mimics picking it up and eating it, then makes a happy face. Then looks at me and passes the book.

“Favorite food? Is that what we're getting at? I mean I like food. This one's going to be hard!”

This one is a little more exciting, because it's food. I draw the pastries we ate this morning, but then I remember Cornerstones, but that reminds me of that Meat Pie Propha gave us right before we went to Waterdeep. I fill a whole page with delicious foods. I consider turning the page to continue drawing, but I hear him make a weird little snort sound.

When I look up at him, I see he's smiling. Stifling a laugh, I think. He says something to me, but I don't know what it is.

“What? I like food, okay?”

He smiles.

Yep, I'm definitely teaching him Common. I really am the best. My turn for a question, then. Man, I'm going to run out of things I can draw at this rate.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

As I watch the dragon person decide what new inquiry she* wishes to pose unto me, I have a moment to reflect on whether I think she's intelligent but a bit off, or just daft. So far, these beings that I'm encountering on the surface are nothing akin to what I have been taught. They don't capture or kill Drow on sight, and they don't react in a hateful way that should garner punishment. I know, historically, there is a great divide between Darthiir- err- Surface Elves and the Drow, and so contextually, I can fathom this in some of Warrior’s behavior. Yet, as frightening as their Warrior Walnut is and as absolutely bone-chilling as their Fortress Mistress is, I have not yet been treated as a captive. If anything, I've been treated… well? The dragon humanoid and the small Matron Grandmother are otherwise impossible parse, behaviorally.It's a baffling experience, and altogether unwelcome. In a way, I don't want to leave these comforts, but the back if my mind, I desperately seek the clues that will indicate to that it's a charade. That I will know it's an act before it inevitably culminates in some elaborate form of torture.At my childish outburst earlier, the Matron Grandmother... I think the word is ‘comfort’, I believe she was comforting me. Even The Warrior was behaving in a way that I think amounts to kindness. Neither of them took me in my moment of visible weakness and acted in a way to further the insult, to bring forth worse and still worse feelings or pain. I don’t know why they did that. It inverts all my expectations. The only thing I can presume is that they will use this growing comfort, this trust, to then betray me later. To allow me to rely on them fully and break me. When the time comes, and they tire of the act of kindness, will I have fallen for it completely, or will I be prepared? Can I remain vigilant against this psychological reliance?Even now this dragon person, who tries to speak with me in words I do not know, has agreed to share information in a visual manner, even so far as to include a House web. I find myself at an ever-increasing loss. I don't know how I should act, or how I'm expected to act in these unexpected situations. The data I had been provided in my studies was faulty. My bias has not been confirmed, but in fact, rebutted. I was under the assumption that they would slay on sight, but either they are somehow genuine, or they are far more subversive than I knew. This should be easier to comprehend, but the methods do not match what I studied or was taught. So instead, I am caught unawares. Not knowing if it is practiced deceit or somehow a form of interpersonal connection I have so very fleetingly experienced, I can simply observe and try to learn as much as I can about this place and these beings.The dragon… man? I think it's a male, at least in what I understand of males of my own kind. His voice seems like a male, as I understand it. And yes! Didn't Warrior say that ‘he’ could be put back into place by the matrons? So I will presume that the dragon person is a male, then, and try to change my behavior to act… how exactly is one expected to behave in a social context with a dragon person? Is his kind covered in the base regard that all non-Drow are inferior? Is his kind above or below Svirfneblin or Duergar? When it all boils down, does the place of his people really matter contextually when compared to my own? And even if so, can one such as me really make comment on his place?Regardless, he's finally begun to draw. I wait patiently and watch as he works, wondering if his style is cultural, lack of practice, or due to the odd configuration that his dragon-like hand is constructed. Certainly it is not as refined as the drawings I am used to seeing in the texts we study, or even my own shaky dabblings in observational arts. That said, it has a novelty to it that I find interesting. He talks and mumbles to himself as he draws, and I can’t tell the meanings of the words, but sometimes it sounds like he is responding to what he is drawing, rather than to me.When he slides me the book, I see something completely alien to me. I know that I hold the book oriented the way he'd held it, but I can't discern what it is that I'm looking at. I look at him quizzically.“K'lerk mur,” he says. “Raen diir.”I don't know what it means. I shake my head, “nau.” I don't understand.He says more then, pointing at the picture, then himself.I look at it again. I suppose it could be some form of fauna. It seems as though it has four legs somewhere between the depictions I’ve seen of minotaurs and the chuul and odd coral or stalagmites jutting from it's conical head.I shake my head at him again. He looks bothered by this, and my fear once again emerges. This is the turn, surely! One proper application of one of those claws, one swift attack and I'd be instantly dealt with, permanently.I apologise to him, though I know he can't understand me. I hope my supplication to be in adequate measure to sate his anger.He gets up.My fingers tightly clutch the book and I look at it harder, trying to think. I must have seen this somewhere before. I have to remember. I feel his presence loom over me and I shut my eyes. At least in death there should be no suffering, right?But death doesn't come. Instead I hear him clapping, then… slapping the floor? Once, twice, three times. Slowly I look behind me, where I see that he's kneeling on the floor in preparation for something. Every now and again I can hear him curse. Those words I know. Various petty literature seems to enjoy adding these words, as if by their inclusion the book is somehow better for it. As though a few vulgar surface words are all that is required to distract the reader and disguise poor literary craft.As I watch, I wonder what he's doing. He continues this for far longer than I would expect. At the end, it seems as though a desperation has taken hold in addition to his mounting frustrations, though his expressions are somewhat alien and difficult to discern. There is a fine line between diligent repetition and perseverance... and insanity. I idly wonder if anyone has ever told him this. Or worse, what if they have, and he simply ignored it? Or killed them with those claws of his? He is quite large after all. His people can’t all be the size of him, can they?Suddenly there is a painful burst of light and I drop his book, trying to protect my eyes. Immediately after my eyes are sealed behind my hands, I hear a gleeful sound from him, and a sound at once like chitton over stone, but more hallow, perhaps by nature of these wooden floors.He's talking again, which I assume means he's talking to me, as the room had been otherwise empty. Slowly, I part my fingers and attempt to peer past them. The excruciating light has subdued some small measure into a mildly irritating glow. Squinting, I let my hands drop.And then my jaw follows.Standing before me is a glowing four legged creature with twinkling gems like diamonds, citrine, and many colored zircon glistening all throughout its body. It is massive. Large enough that I believe he could ride it. It is translucent and swirls with the bioluminescent colors of the deepest caverns. Though it appears spectral, I can see it has form. Tufts of fur and hair cover its body, but especially under it's massive neck and chin. What I had perceived as stalagmites in the drawing instead appear to be massive splintering antennae.“K'lerk mur.” He repeats.“K.. k'lerk mur,” I whisper back.The large beast tilts its massive head and I can see intelligence in its eyes. It appraises me. Immediately I avert my gaze and look down. Down to the odd cloven bricks that it's legs terminate in.It makes a sound, like a wail or warble, then turns to the one who summoned it. The dragon man pets it, talking to it now. I slowly look back up to it.The Dragon points to it, and says a few things, but I am stone-struck, and can do nothing but gape. He continues talking to me, and gesturing at the beast. The shapes and colors within it swirl and shift. Twinkles appear, then vanish and it is like nothing I have ever seen.  Deep within it mirrors the beginning and end of life. Of lichens unknown and deepness unseen.Suddenly, before I can react, he's grabbed my forearm and ripped me from my seat.It's undignified, but I let out a yelp, demanding to be released. It's lost on him, of course. Instead he says something under his breath and thrusts my hand into the beast, then shifts it about before letting go of my arm, my hand buried beneath the beast's dense coat.From the servants area, I hear the Matron Grandmother say something in their tongue and the Dragon responds, heading away from me and towards her voice. But I? I am transfixed.I bring my other hand up to pet the beast, and notice it watching. With a start, I remove my hands. Curiously, it steps closer to me, pushing it's neck into my hands. I look to the spot and begin to run my fingers through its impressive mane.As near I can tell, it's as soft as spider silk, but far thicker and densely grown. My fingers push through it to touch the soft surface underneath. It resembles flesh, though whether it actually is, or is some approximation generated by the spell, I'm uncertain. It is warm to the touch, and soft. To feel it in my hands is a strange sensation. A comfort in physical form. Vaguely, I'm aware that the Matron Grandmother has left the servants area and is now engaging with the Dragon, but until requested, I continue this study of such an alien specimen. **I look up to the antennae, then to the beast’s watchful eye seeking permission, though I am not sure I will find it. Slowly, I reach a hand up to touch the nearest branching antena. It shakes its head, reverberating down through its neck and causing it's massive shoulders to shift under the impressive motion. I pull my hand back immediately and watch it's graceful, yet powerful movement. Awed that it can move with such swiftness and strength even with such immense projections upon its head. What their weight must be, their purpose unknown. Is it simply as use for a defense, or is it that they are complex pincers? Are they kinetic or static? As it settles down, I consider if I should try again. Then slowly reach a hand up.The Matron Grandmother says something across the room, and I hear the door to the servants area close as she likely returns to her work. When she does, the Dragon suddenly barks some words at me and starts stomping over.I ignore him. He's just a male, and the Matron Grandmother did not stop me.Surprisingly, the antennae is also slightly fuzzy around what must be a dense bone with no, or very little, imitation-organic material beneath them.The Dragon grabs my hand and removes it. He's saying words, again. This is pointless.“I can't understand you, you oaf ,” I spit back at him, forgetting in that instance that he's still holding my arm and very very much larger than me in all dimensions.I immediately regret my forward aggression and my stomach drops into the seventh layer of hell as my throat begins to choke on my own words. I must be suicidal! I try to think of any prayer to Lolth that could help me in this situation, but my mind runs black. There is nothing in this empty vessel. I am a cavern that is inhospitable to even the most basic of worship, baren of all knowledge. Even the most basic fundamentals that were passed onto me at the time of my birth have fled from my grasp. The worthless son, unable in his time to understand his foe or his place, and to be slain in this wretched place. I will die here, and I will not be missed.He continues to hold my offending hand in a vice like grip, and in pathetic response my other hand grasps onto the fur of this great beast's mane. Turning my head away, for fear of observing the hatred I've clearly and finally garnered, I rest my head against the beast. Hiding from a truth that is the entirety of my existence, exemplified in bad decisions and improper etiquette. He's doing something with the beast's head. Maybe he'll simply remove the hand, surely the beast can bite it off quickly? Perhaps the pain will be manageable if it is a swift clean cut? What manner of teeth does a creature like this have? I can only pray that they are the sharp shredding incisors of a fierce predator.The silence. I'm aware of it now. There had been the deafening humm of what can only be described as the sound of shifting sand manufactured by my mind in my state of panic. I am only able to realize that it had existed at all by the fact that I can now feel it fading from my awareness. Has it been silent this whole time? What could he possibly be doing? Is he just watching me squirm? Does he enjoy my fear? Will he wait until I look before he issues my punishment? Will-He drops my hand.I feel, rather than see, him pat the beast's large head. ***I don't move.Is this part of the punishment? Does he want me to be unsure when he'll strike? Why is he walking away?There's a scraping sound, then a shuffle.Slowly, I lift my head and turn to look at the table. He's sat back down and is looking at the book, which he's picked off the floor. He squints, then sounds confused. He writes in the book. He doesn't look at me. Not even a glance. What sort of punishment is this? Is he going to simply… ignore me? But this beast of his is still here? I hear more writing and look back to him again, but he's not writing. He grumbles, then writes again. Another return scribble from an unseen hand. Whatever it is, he seems unhappy about it, and all of his attention is on the book.I look to the beast. It's been watching me.  Carefully, I put my hand in front of its face and a spectral tongue darts out to lick it. Unlike the simulacrum of the skin, the tongue is cool and surprisingly dry. I tilt my hand to try and approach it's broad nose. This action must be too slow, however, because it thrusts it's snout into my hand. Here, the fuz is short, almost bristly, but not so grating as mica or iron flakes. Slowly I run my hand up past it's eyes, I test the thickness of it's protruding ear between my fingers, and then I return to it's great antennae again. Such a variety of textures from a similar substrate. A familiar yet altogether new experience.I think I like this k'lerk mur creature.As I come to this realization, Matron Grandmother and Warrior emerge from the servants area carrying a few trays, and bring them to the table where the Dragon is sitting. I watch them all from a few steps away in my position near the k'lerk mur, my hands once again buried in it's thick mane.Matron Grandmother takes something and offers it to the beast. When the k’lerk mur starts to walk, I walk with it, still unwilling to let this experience end. I may not live long after this, but if I do, I wish to remember every detail.Warrior they call Walnut looks over the Dragon's shoulder and talks to him in a harsh way, gesturing to his book. They begin to argue****, but my attention is taken now by the Matron Grandmother.“Hey, dearie. I made some stew for us all. I made yours extra special with a secret stash of mushrooms someone I know has been trying to grow for a while. Why don't you come take a seat and get a proper meal in you?”I look to the great beast, the two arguing individuals, then back to her.“Matron Grandmother-”“Just 'grandmother’, dear.” She giggles in a soft, high pitched way, “I know these rascals don't act as such, but I'm really just an equal part of the group. But go on, I didn't mean to interrupt.”I ponder that, then carefully continue, this time with the proper title, “Grandmother, you all… didn't. You really didn't abduct me…” It's not a question. “So then, how did I get here? And why… do you all act like you... know me somehow? I've never been to the Surface.”“Oh,” she swipes her hands from her shoulders down to her waist in a way that I presume has some meaning lost on me “I thought we already told you, dear, you just remind us of someone we know, that's all.”“Normal Drow aren't blue.”She hesitates, chuckles in a strained way, then looks to the others who are still debating.“Well no, but. I'd be lying if I said we were unfamiliar with that particular bloodline.”She's looking at Warrior with perturbation, now. There must be more she's hiding from me. How could they possibly know about the Rah'uuthli? All known family are under the Matron's beck and call, aren't they?“How many Drow do you know? What have they told you about my family?” My unspoken question gets trapped in my throat: What have they told you about me ? About the blue boy who is not obsequious in the right ways, or obedient and cruel in the others?I have Warriors attention now as well, and I can feel my lingering panic start frothing again. I'm overstepping, I know I am, but I need to know. My hands grasp the fur of the beast tightly, and for some reason I step closer to it, as if this summoned animal will be my salvation in this foreign nightmarescape.“Thriss, sweetie, I promise we're trying to get to the bottom of this. We really don't know what happened and we'd never intentionally do you harm. I know this is all scary but we can talk it over once we all eat some lunch, okay?”I look to Warrior, “Who was the Matron you killed with your K'Thriss? What House? Do they still pursue you?!”The Grandmother looks to Warrior, and she crumbles.They talk in Common for a bit, the Grandmother sounds unhappy. Warrior goes silent, and looks down. This cannot be good for me. I have been told too much, then. The information I have cannot leave this place, I imagine. Yes, of course. I said too much, and this warrior’s mistake shall be rectified with my end. They will either kill me, or make it so that I cannot remember, cannot speak, or cannot think ever again.With the crash of a sudden cold geyser, the front door bursts open. All of our attentions are grabbed as a brisk cold and white particulate flows into the room. With this sudden audible intrusion, enters a person wrapped tightly in a cloak. A male voice says something and as I look at him, at first confused by the eclectic head accessories, I recognize the unmistakable hue of House Rah’uuthli. --------------------- ART BY DOVA ( Dova's Twitter ) ---------------------

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

As I cross the threshold into the inn Donaar turns in his seat to look past Walnut, who is standing over him. “HAH, TOLD YA SO! ”  he barks at her.Not the response I had anticipated in reciprocation of my standard greeting. Perhaps, I should have factored in the unexpected extension of my morning activities vis a vis the current time of day and inclement weather situation.I swiftly turn to close the door, and the cold and snow that had chased my path into this constructed refuge of stone and slain timber ceases immediately. This simple action and the resultant rush of warmth from the room allows me to finally feel the physical limits inflicted upon my body as instantiated by the activities of the morning. Stiffly, I walk farther into the room, intending to integrate it's warmth into my corporeal form in hopes of thawing my increasingly achy limbs and reclaim full range of motion in my stiff joints. I make my way to the table and remove the second cloak I had borrowed from Donaar earlier in the morning. It had been requested at a time when the day was still an agreeable darkness and before the at once pleasantly-warm and dreadfully skin-irritating visage of the Day Star had yet to surface over hills and horizon.“Thank you again for the usage of your cloak, Friend. I may have not fared as well without the addition of the warmth provided by its more encompassing dimensions,” I say, taking off my sun hat and carefully inserting it into my Hoardsperson Bag. “Unfortunately, it has come to my attention that the next time I attempt another such winter excursion, I may need to find a more suitable head covering,” I finish as I near the table they all sit while prophering the cloak to Donaar.There is a situational cue to which I am not privy that is occurring in this moment. I realize Walnut's expression is unwavering and surprised, despite the fact that Donaar had issued a loud retort at her. Donaar turns to me, smug, but also perhaps tinged with something else. I notice Clarkmore standing on the far side of the table and while I recognize the form of Rosie's silhouette in my peripheral beside him my eyes stop before that. There is another figure here.“Hello, fr-...”I intend to repeat my usual greeting, but find an error in processing. My system freezes in place. A smile grows, to simulate familiarity and passive comfort as internally I assess the new information. The information does not parse in full, so I begin to evaluate them in parts instead.Somehow, what I see before me can only be described as a young male Drow of House Rah’uuthli. His skin is the slightly darker hue that mine was, centuries ago before the harsh Day Star began to slowly bleach some of the pigmentation out of it. His hair and eyes are the the pure and natural colors of the Drow, still untainted by terrors and the temptations that would corrupt his visage. Indeed, they remain perfectly white cropped locks with red irises immediately visible in his wide-eyed fear and surprise. His emotions show, as though any attempt to curb them is a wholly insubstantial application of willpower which has not been trained to counter the stimuli around him. I can determine by the youth in his face, his posture, and his size that he is young, likely an approximation between 45-55 years of age, if not a decade or so younger. Of height, he is comparable to that of Walnut. Any unwelcome growth spurt that would cause him to suddenly tower within the sight of those he would most wish to hide and avoid has not yet occurred. The posture is rigid, studied, and practiced though he is collapsing under the weight of it, unable to maintain the proper airs in any situation. His clothing is of a style and cut most frequently used for those in active study, but draped with the sacrificial markings required for special events determined by the matron. These garments have been modified horrendously with the signs of prolonged mourning, these most certainly created in secret isolation by the very hands buried into the great coat of Donaar's Celestial beast. His expression telegraphs a weakness of character and will, a trait that will follow him for years yet to come. Decades. Centuries.I look to Rosie. My smile falters, until I remind myself that I must be seeing things. It's the cold, certainly. Such a sight should not be physically possible. Another unexplained side effect of my mornings excursion that I will have time to investigate once my social obligations are fulfilled here. Then I can determine the adequate response and decide if this is a matter deserving the party’s input, or just another of my character traits I will need to keep in mind when operating in social situations. Certainly my other madness is manageable, this too shall be understood and regulated. And if not understood or regulated, then ignored unless my companions designate otherwise.Ignoring my previous half-start, I say, “I apologise for my tardiness, I'd hoped to return before daybreak, but was caught by the snow.” This proves to be enough, and by saying it I am able to break myself out of the stillness, and resume walking towards the table.Walnut turns to Donaar, and I see from my corner eyes a crinkling of her brow and a twisting of her mouth that signifies a lesser form of rage.“You knew?!” She yells at him. “You knew and let us search around the inn all day anyway?!”His reaction, as determined by my adjacent ocular-replacements, is a different brow action that I've determined, in my time working and traveling with him for these past two years, is an incredulous confusion. Or that's the best I can relate this Dragonborn expression to an elven or human emotion.“You stole my cloak ?!” he redirects Walnuts tone to me as he reaches out to gather the cloak from me.“No. I sent you a message via Awakened Mind before I left, your response was some form of unintelligible mental scream followed by the words ‘whatever you want, just leave me alone.’ I found your room was locked, so I Misty Stepped inside, gathered it and then unlocked the door on my way out.”“So that's why I didn't need to Shadow Step into there this morning,” comes a murmur of understanding from Rosie.Walnut grabs the cloak in one hand, and Donaar's collar in the other, but seems unable to articulate. After a few failed starts, she throws the cloak into his chest and stomps to the other side of the table and throws herself loudly into a chair where she can continue to glare at him. All in all, a fairly standard occurrence.“K'Thriss,” Rosie softly interjects while the vision of my young self still stands beside her silently gazing upon me as she continues, “didn't you consider that he might have been asleep and dreaming?”“I confess the thought had crossed my mind, but I figured even a sleeping consent adequate, as it was merely a formality. You see, I had expected to return before it's use would be necessary!” I take a cursory moment to look at them all, “Even as my excursion went beyond the intended duration, it appears as though my calculation was still accurate.”Then in Elvish I hear a young male voice, as the apparition turns to Rosie, “Is… this your companion?”My smile twitches, and becomes more broad. Beneath my eye-covering, half my eyes blink firmly, while the other half open wide, realizing that she has turned to face this apparition, then me. Is she aware of him? Or does she only see Clarkmore? Or maybe it was not said at all, perhaps simply a sound was made, and my mind invented a way to parse this collection of sounds into the delicate whispers of the Elven language.“I'm sorry, did you say something, Rosie?” I ask, as a way of testing which possibility is accurate. As I do, I spare a few eyes to observe this child. Causality behaving unexpectedly in the space he appears to be occupying.In Elvish, Rosie replies, but not too me, “Yes dearie. This is him. His name is K'Thriss Drow’b. I'm not sure why he didn't say hello. K'thriss, this is Thriss. ”He looks at her still, then looks back at me. Her eyes follow after him and I'm struck to my core in a way wholly unexpected. A way I can barely take the time to comprehend. In pain, sorrow, confusion, desperation, and remembrance. It is not possible to smile any more than I already am.“I'm sorry. Rosie, you can see him also?” I say in Common before processing that she'd spoken in Elvish.“Of course I can! Why wouldn't I be able to?” She replies in a dark uncertain tone, as my eyes notice her looking at me with the an expression that displays untrustworthiness tinged with concern. She attempts subtlety, but I see her gently rub the wrist where she wears the sister chain to my Power Transfer Necklace.I pause for a moment. The data is still an error code I am unable to parse. Looking more pointedly at the boy, I see what I have not seen in centuries. It had been easier to accept that he  was a hallucination then the possibility that my childish form, the ‘boy who mourned a father,’ was physically present in the inn.“So I have not been affected by a state of delirium caused by the effects of prolonged exposure to the winter elements?” I ask her, still in Common.She looks at me solemnly, then chuckles in a way that's nearly devoid of humor, “No, K'Thriss. There is a Drow here, and from the looks and sounds of it, he's from your House.”‘My House,’ interesting, I wonder if she chose that wording intentionally, or if she's somehow unaware of who he is, even though she introduced him with my pure name. I devote most of my attention to him now, but am still peripherally able to see Donaar fumble with his cloak and scratch his head while Walnut's expression softens and alternates between this boy and my older self.I suppose public testing of this occurrence is required after all.I go to start in Common, then remember his capabilities at this age, and change to Elvish, “Hello, friend. You seem somewhat displaced. Might I inquire as to your arrival to this wonderful inn we call home?”He's telegraphing much. More than I remembered. More than he probably realizes. More than he does realize, because certainly I have no recollection of it, though I also don't recall meeting myself in this way before. Certainly I've glanced other Causalities, as in the chamber entombing That Which Endures, but they were always of comparable age to my present self. I never saw my elder or younger self in those instances, and surely I would have remembered such a jarring experience at such a raw point in my life. Alas, have I forgotten this as well?The child that I was, that he is, displays shock reflected in his entire posture, and looks to Rosie who nods at him, before responding. Ah, yes, of course he would. What an unfortunate observation, but relevant. He is young. So very young.“Jabbuk-” he starts with the Drow title and I immediately interject.“Ah, friend, no. I'm afraid that's inaccurate and perhaps this situation is unknowable to you at this time, but I assure you, we are all of relatively equal station in this group.” I pause for a moment, realizing, feeling , his fear in the error and decide to breach the topic another way, “Perhaps clarification of the name might assist, and you can judge more accurately the situation from there: K'Thriss Drow'b, as condensed from k’hil Thriss Drow do’bauth. As such, honorifics are neither expected nor required.”I smile. Too much. I do so intentionally. This child may see in me a flaw of character, where now I see my experience has led to growth. He may not accept me as what I am, but better that then allow the propagation of misleading expectations.“I don't understand,” Dismiss Drow tites? “they name you companion” [ you] stated friends? “but you call yourself…” Heretic? Betrayer? Ah, yes! He can read my hands. I had forgotten what that was like.I look to them now, realizing that I had subconsciously supplemented my words with the subliminal articulations of my otherwise openly-abandoned culture. Signs that had given further truth and meaning to the spoken words. Overlapping the them, adding context. To communicate within communication.I lift my head and face him again.“Yes.” As communicated. Donaar interjects in Common, while loudly moving a large bowl of soup closer to himself, “Where the hell did you go that you needed my cloak? And why were you gone so long? And what's with this kid? Did you and Fenn..?”The coalescing of such divergent stimuli had nearly made me forget the very thing I had accomplished this morning! First, in response to the last, “ NO . Fenn has no involvement, and for that matter neither do I, if my own memory can be trusted, but! My discovery! Let me tell you!” I state, as I grab a small vial of floating blue spores from the Hoardsperson Bag. “I had been reading in my father's study knife about certain surface fungi that had been brought to the Underdark as spores intended to be utilized in a collection of poisons, however, very quickly, all the specimen died beneath the ground. Apparently the climate and food for their propagation was not readily available underground. I had seen that their studies indicated trees as a component for the growth. In my personal experience, surface mushrooms largely fester in decay, and not as some mushrooms Beneath grow. So! I postulated! Certainly these growths would not thrive in a forest as healthy and magical as the Crucible, so I set to find a lesser plant. The study showed that these fungi grew in places that creatures would seek respite, and so, they would have their warmth drawn from them by the curse of this elusive parasitic fungal threat! The fomes frigamortis!” I hold the vial of spores aloft for all to see, proud in my success. “I do confess, that the parasites ability to harvest warmth was greater than my prediction, and so after I was able to capture the spores for study, found myself brittle and without energy. That was of course when the snow-”“K'Thriss, dear” Rosie interjects in Common, “I know this is very exciting for you, but I think we have a more pressing issue at hand.” To which she gestures to my young self, “But first, why don't we all sit and eat?”“Ah yes. A warm meal might assist in thawing my body.” I turn to Donaar, “Are you able to cure or heal frostbite? I believe a few of my toes may be afflicted.”“Uh, sure. That shouldn't be a problem. I mean, I'm pretty great, so yeah! I can totally do that!”“Excellent!”I fetch a chair from another table and set it besides Donaar, then sit and remove my shoes.Donaar had already started eating his soup, and between gulps, manages, “Right now?” “ If possible. I find that the sensation is most displeasing, and while curious at first, I think I've learned all that can be learned of it… though perhaps I can leave one toe afflicted, if only to observe the thawing process.”With a shrug he slaps his hands together, cracks his knuckles and cups my cheeks. Instantly I feel sensation return to three of my toes and look down to them to observe the fourth. Interesting. I gesture, largely to myself.A Drow-elven query reaches my ears, “What are you doing?”I look up to him still standing with his hands returned to their place upon Clarkmore. Rosie puts a bowl in front of him, then me. It looks like she's given me half of his portion. It smells… very good, actually. There's something familiar about it.“Oh! I was afflicted by a piercing cold,” damage , “and asked Donaar for assistance to heal it. I'm simply assessing the contrast.” Study. Documentation. “You… asked?” Ordered/commanded? “No, I asked,” As communicated. Walnut pipes in in Elvish, “that's what he said K'Thriss.”“Was it? My mistake,” I reply to her. My hands communicate to the younger self, Invisible hands. A way to state the deeper meaning was lost on our Wood Elf friend.She then continues in Common, “you sure that's all the healing he needed, Donaar? He still seems a bit off. I could-”“He's, fine , right buddy?”“Quite!” I agree with him. To this self, this child who does not yet know Surface Common, I issue concern for health. Mine. This visibly shocks him, as it should. I am a male Drow among those of the surface, yet I am cared for. Yes, I remember that state of mind. I still feel it, that fear, it echoes within me even now. To wish for attachment but to fear the lash that follows. Yet, worse than that is knowing these connections captivate me. That I seek and desire them when I know I should not. To wish for friendship but relentlessly experience abandonment or betrayal. By mortals. By gods. He is not prepared for this environment, for this isolation. After all...He still mourns his father.I smile at him, then take a sip of the soup placed before me. Ah, Rosie must have found my terrarium in the cellar. At the very least, she seems to have picked the edible ones. Perhaps she remembered them from when I harvested the spores earlier this year from the Underdark.My younger self watches me intently and silently poses me a question. You. See/sight? I look up to him and nod. He does not know of my many eyes behind this blindfold. I wonder how I will react, if shown what I will become.To conceal the interaction which he chose to leave inaudible from the others, I add in Elvish, “The soup is quite good! They are from my own mushroom collection.” Safe. “I'm certain Rosie would be upset if you didn't at least try it. They are actually quite good cooked.” Adequate/suboptimal. He looks to the soup, then Rosie, then, curiously, back to where his hands had previously been pressed against Clarkmore. One hand reaches up to scrunch the aetherial fur, and his eyes contemplate. It is as though he is searching for something, or attempting to assemble a context still alien to him. With a great hesitation, he pulls his hands away from the reindeer and slowly sits in the chair in front of him. Across from me.I can see him so very clearly now. Beyond him, through him. I don't know how he came to be here, or if there is a purpose to it. All I know is that his Causality is entirely wrong. Possibly even shattered. Additional study will be required.I smile broadly.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

I know that there have been some pretty intense meals at this table, and some pretty devastating reveals, but I have to admit, this is a new extreme on the weirdness scale. K'thriss seems almost like he's been off-balance since he walked in the door. First he says ‘hi’ like its just another Tuesday, next he completely ignores that this kid is here, then says he basically thought he'd just been seeing things - as if that's a comfort - then he asks Donaar for healing, as if I couldn't do it. Now he's having a really awkward interaction with a kid that might be himself? Why does the stuff involving him always have to be weird unexplainable stuff that only makes sense to him? What's the word he uses for it? Causality? Why can't things just be what they are, K'thriss? First your stupid crypt, then a weird squid-island with a portal leading to a bunch of trapped gods, then the whole Oak’s blood is poison followed by the Underdark thing, then my Meilikki-freeing but still ruined wedding. Ugh.
And now, as if all of that wasn't bad enough, he's acting so weird that I think he might have slipped on the ice out there, or ate some of the weird mushrooms he found. Either way, I'm going to keep an eye on him in case he does anything even more weird than this whole situation already is. Goddesses forbid that he accidentally re-traps gods or makes things worse because he bashed his skull open on the road out there.

To make matters just…

even better

, the kid is looking at him in a very strange way. Either K’thriss doesn’t notice it, or is ignoring it, because he just tilts his head down to continue eating. I'm still not sure if that means he's actually

looking

down or not. I'm kind of never sure where he's

actually

looking since his eyes are… not normal. But at least he's eating. Just in case he is looking at me, I move my gaze to the other people at the table.

I see the kid look to Donaar, who is almost done now, then me. I get the feeling that he isn't sure if he's allowed to eat. He definitely looks uncertain. Does he think he has to wait until last before he can eat? Is that a thing?

I start eating, in part because I'm hungry, but also because I think it's probably a good way to convince him to eat, and with how much he has been freaking out, he probably needs to get some of that energy back.

After he looks at me, he turns to Rosie who gives him a little nod. He looks at his food, then back to K'thriss, then down to his soup and takes a sip.

I stop eating for a moment to watch his every move, so I see how he crinkles his nose after the first sip before taking a peek up at K'thriss. He makes a flourish with his hands. K'thriss reacts with a quick motion of his own.

“It's good, isn't it?” K'thriss says as he repeats the weird gesture.

“It’s…” the kid looks over to Rosie, then his food and tries another sip. This time he tilts his head a bit, “foreign, but interesting. Yes, good.” The last part is punctuated with a quick glance to Rosie that I'm pretty sure he hoped she didn't see, but knowing her she

absolutely

saw.

I continue eating my food as if I saw nothing.

“Oh, thank you dear. I don't know any traditional Drow cooking, but I do know my way around a kitchen and am pretty sure I can whip something enjoyable for you and everyone else at the table. K’thriss doesn't really know much of the culinary arts, but maybe I can teach you a few things and you can teach me a thing or two?”

I can tell from her tone that she’s trying to be delicate and act as though this isn’t as weird as it actually really is. It’s basically the same way she was talking to him when he was crying. She’s still trying to comfort him, just this time it’s less about crying and more about maybe making him feel safe enough to eat. At least that’s how I’m reading it. That said, has K’thriss

always

been this bad about eating food? How did he get so tall without even eating? Both of them. They have to be hungry, but neither of them seem all that interested in actually eating. I would

never

admit this, but their soup actually even smells good. Maybe even better than the one I have.

K'thriss looks up as if he was about to say something to Rosie, then turns to the kid and stops himself. I see him pause for a moment with a solemn expression, but he quickly replaces it with his usual smile. He looks back down at his soup, still holding his spoon, takes a few more sips, and then I don't see him eat any more after that. He

pretends

to eat more, but I can see that his spoon is empty. I see Rosie glance at him for a second, so I know she can also tell, but Donaar and the little K’thriss look-a-like don’t seem to notice, or if they do, they don’t care.

The kid looks to Rosie with confusion. “Grandmother, why don’t you let the servants make the meals? Surely that is their job?” after a pause he continues, “Is that why I am here, do you have no more sla-”

Kthriss moves very quickly for once and his spoon makes a noise as it falls into his bowl. I hate to admit it, but it startles me as he pulls his hands deep into his cloak with a quickness I’ve only seen matched by his spells. I mean the guy barely even runs unless he absolutely has to.

The kid stops what he was saying immediately, and looks over to him. It must be another hand gesture thing because it's silent for a beat. Until K'thriss speaks up in a way that, well, like Donaar said, it’s like the anxious way he was in the Underdark, but better managed this time. A little. At least, he hasn't faded to light purple yet and it’s not nearly as much of a pointless ramble.

“There are no servants here. We all perform tasks to maintain the location.” I can see his cloak moving slightly, so his hands might be moving inside of it as he's talking. Fuck, now that I know about is salderahi thing I'm going to always wonder about what his

hands

are saying. How did I never notice this before?! And what a pain! Does he not trust us? Why the secrecy?

The kid softly asks, “Really?”

K'thriss removes his hands from his cloak, resting one on top of the other on the table near his unfinished bowl. “Some surface cultures do have servants and slaves, but many consider it immoral. In Red Larch and several other cities on the Sword Coast, I've found it to be largely an unspeakable offense to have slaves.”

The kid goes silent for a second, and I swear I see his jaw drop half way before he catches it and promptly closes it. He quickly looks back to each of us, then Rosie, who just smiles at him for a bit, knowingly.

“Eat, sweety,” she says. And he does. All of it.

“May… may I be excused?” he asks in a voice so small it might not even count as a whisper. He even asks at the exact second he places his spoon back into his empty bowl.

“Of course dear, you have the run of the place. But if you want to go outside remember its very bright and cold.” Rosie offers him K'thriss’ old cloak, “I’m sure K'thriss won't mind if you borrow this. Maybe he can show you around the town later?”

He looks at the dirty old cloak, then K'thriss.

K'thriss smiles blankly.

That can’t be a good sign.

The kid takes the cloak from Rosie as if he's never seen something so disgusting, but says nothing, then slowly heads upstairs.

I wait until I hear his shoes stop and a door close before I look back to K'thriss, and demand in Common, “Slaves?! Really?! He keeps asking us if we kidnapped or bought him, is

that

what this is all about?!”

K'thriss smiles blankly for a few more moments, then looks over me. He shakes his head and his smile twitches and falls just a hair.

Looking back up the stairs, he responds softly, almost as if he’s very far away “I thought it was common knowledge that the Drow hold raids to capture and hold slaves. Our House was no different. I didn’t realize he’d been vocalizing his belief that this was why he was here, though it does make sense, given his circumstance.”

“

Great

,” I'm angry, but as much as I want to take it out on K'thriss, he never once asked or suggested having slaves. Does Velvet count? I mean, he’s not really alive-

OKAY I GOT MYSELF MAD AGAIN.

“

Well?

Are you going to fill us in on what you did this time,

drow?”

He smiles again, but this time I think it looks more like like he’s in pain then actually smiling. For a few more minutes, we all look at him. Then he admits, “See, the curious thing is, I don't think I did anything. But how else could I be here if I hadn't? How could

he

be here if I hadn't?” he corrects.

“I'm sorry, so you're saying that he just

showed up

out of nowhere?” Donaar asks, a little surprised. I look at him more with disbelief than anything else. “I mean, I’m sure you could do something like that, with all this magic nonsense of yours. And I mean, I do stuff I don’t know about all the time, because I’m just

that

awesome. Then again, you aren’t me, so maybe you can’t do that.”

I’m just glaring at Donaar now and shaking my head because not only is none of that, true, it’s also distracting K’thriss from the main point here. Where the hell did this kid come from? And why did he land so perfectly over K’thriss’ bed? He

has

to have done something.

K'thriss sits up a bit in his chair, and straightens his cloak before continuing, with mixed curiosity and… concern? “Well, certainly he came from somewhere, but I'm afraid I don't know how or why. Though I can say with some certainty

when

he's come from...” he pauses for a bit and looks down to his soup, but pushes it away, half eaten. "But no. Nothing I've been working on lately… or ever, for that matter, has related to tampering with the Causal path of any self of my youth. At least not as far as I remember. Though I am learning that memory is a far more fickle thing than I had previously believed. I suppose it is possible that

once

I may have attempted something such as this. But if so, it’s not something I have done recently.”

Donaar chimes in, just because he has to twist the knife, “Well,

I

knew you were safe, the real you- er, the

this

you.” He makes a show of patting K'thriss on the back hard enough that the Drow winces, but at least he stops wearing the phony smile in favor of a more mild one that’s more appropriate for this nonsense.

“Well,” Rosie starts, trying to take hold of the situation, “He’s here now, and he said his name is Thriss Rah’uuthli. So. If there was any doubt…” she shrugs.

“Does he know?” K'thriss asks quickly.

“Does he know what?” Donaar replies stupidly, but not surprisingly.

“That he’s

K'thriss

,” I hiss at Donaar under my breath while pointing to K’thriss with my thumb. To K'thriss I answer a little more calmly, but still quietly “No. We weren’t sure if… he was you… I mean like

you

you. Not like… another you from like hundreds if years ago… we didn't know if you’d somehow turned into him, is what I'm trying to say."

“I knew he wasn’t you,” Donaar pipes in again. “I knew you were around somewhere because I'm the best and-"

I kick him under the table.

Hard.

“

OW!

What the

hell

, Walnut? I was just saying-”

I leer at him and jerk my thumb in K'thriss’ direction wordlessly.

K’thriss is sitting with his head tilted down and has begun stroking his beard. Donaar looks and grimaces, then turns back to me and blows a raspberry. Then he sees K'thriss’ uneaten soup and takes it without even asking.

Rude

.

“Interesting.” comes from K'thriss, but I'm fairly certain he's completely in his head, and not paying attention to us, or anything going on around him. He does this as Donaar makes work at trying to finish his food for him.

Rosie sees that this is not going anywhere for the moment and gathers the plates loudly. This manages to bring K'thriss out of his reverie, and he looks up at Rosie. I’m watching him closely, but it’s sort of hard to tell what he’s thinking sometimes since he doesn't have real eyes and instead has those gross creepy ones that his stupid evil god and Ligotti have.

“Oh, sorry, was I too loud? Well, while I have your attention, K'Thriss,” she starts sweetly apologetic, but then gets more serious, “What exactly is interesting?”

“Ah, yes, my apologies. It's just. I didn't realize that something like this could even be possible. He

seems

as I expect him to be at his age, but yet he's

now

which I did not consider was possible. There is a displacement about him, but it might take some time to figure out what exactly is the cause, or his relationship with it!”

“This sounds boring,” Donaar says as he pushes K’thriss’ finished bowl to Rosie.

“Quite the contrary, it poses a lot of questions that could help us to better understand Causality and the Sanguilith’s grip over it.”

There is that lilt in his voice that tells me he’s way too interested in getting started on something that is probably either creepy, or crazy. He sits, up a bit, then adjusts his robes and returns his feet into his boots while making a few short glances up towards the stairs and upper landing. Not much I can do about it other than tell him some of what I heard earlier.

“Well, maybe. I had a talk with him before and he doesn’t seem to know anything about your weird UR god, much less your creepy Warlock jerk-god,” I huff, resting my chin in my palm and looking at him. I still think he might have slipped on the ice out there, but he is acting more like I would expect him to now.

“Oh he wouldn’t, no. He’s far to young for that yet. Perhaps in another thirty of fourty years he will find it, but not in this reality, in whatever reality he is from. The alter in this reality certainly still exists, but all else that would lead him to become me is likely already fulfilled

through

my existing as I am.”

Rosie sighs heavily and nods. I look over to her and her eyes are closed. When she opens them, she looks to K’thriss, who meets her gaze, “So, in Common you mean to say you

do

agree that he’s you, but we’re not sure he’s

this version

of you? Is that what I’m hearing? Because that

sounds

crazy, but then again,” She lifts her arms in a frustrated gesture, “this is

you

we’re dealing with, and he is

here

so.”

“Rosie, I don’t think I can handle two K’thriss’. One is already enough.” I didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but I sound like a whimpering pup.

She smiles at me good-naturedly and pats my wrist. “Oh don’t worry dear, I think we’re still only dealing with

one

K’thriss.” She looks over to him, “We’re just also dealing with a kid that might be very like what he used to be.” She leans in on her elbows. “And you know, seeing the way he acts is starting to make a whooole lot of sense.”

“Is it?” “It is?” “Really?” We each say at once.

“Yeeep.” She finishes and leans back in her chair. “As much as I think this is going to be a team effort, I think getting him situated in Red Larch should fall to you, K’thriss. You probably know the most about him and can clearly relate to him in a way the rest of us can't.”

“Yeah, and maybe you can get him some better clothes while you’re at it,” Donaar says quickly. “I mean, you know, in case people think he’s the bad kind of Drow, or whatever.”

“Of course.” K’thriss says, then stands. “Anything else I should consider before checking on him?”

Rosie looks to me. “Yes, actually. Perhaps we can all get on the same page about

what exactly

has been told to him so far. I wouldn’t want to

overwhelm him

with details, but if he knows certain things, then there is no point hiding them.”

She’s trying to be nice, but she’s already scolded me about this. I messed up and let Rosie down and now I think I need to go find a nice dark hole to vomit and hide for a little bit. Before I do that, unfortunately, I have to fill them all in.

What a shitty day.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The discussions with my companions proved be something of an enlightening horror. My ability to understand his demeanor was furthered substantially by the realization of what had and hadn’t happened and what words had been said during the day. With a the majority of this sharing of information coming from Walnut, and realizing his immediate assumptions about his social place in this environ, I contemplated the ways in which I would need to relate to a mind as fragile as my own, especially at the point in my life where he came from.I allowed Rosie to scold me briefly on not eating enough after being active all morning, and considered the way he readily consumed the entirety of the food provided to him. His lack of involvement was another consideration: while not afraid to speak, he is still terrified of being heard. I had forgotten this self. A child who has yet to discover the ways in which to overcome the complications presented by permitting chemical emotions to manifest. A child yet unable to suppress and dismiss them outright. A child who has not yet discovered the comfort of the unknowable. A child I've forgotten how to be, and thus am unsure how to engage.Slowly, I make my way up the stairs, carefully contemplating the complexity of the self. It's at the landing of the second floor that I come to the realization that I’m not entirely certain where he would go from here. This place is altogether foreign to him. The normal response would be to retreat to a safe place of respite or study. However, presented with his current scenario there would be no such comforts. The context in which to find such a place is entirely lacking. Additionally, I would have to imagine that the prospect of going outside would likely terrify and overwhelm one with a mind so delicate as to be easily tattered with fear when not even directly exposed to the Surface world he’s been warned about. He would seek familiarity, but what here would be seen as familiar?Walnut mentioned that she initially discovered him when she heard an indescribable sound in my room, so that is where I decide to start.Inside I see a few of my books and possessions have been moved, but largely nothing else is disturbed. In the corner I make to straighten out a few of my more interesting tomes that seemed to have been scattered, perhaps, based on the area of their present resting locations, they were dropped. I can't imagine Rosie or Walnut would be interested in such novel works, so I can conclude that it must have been him. Books are a comfort, and they present a safety, both in how much they offer in learning, but also in their ability to offer an escape from external stimuli. Certainly that is a calculable factor, given the abundance of unfamiliar stimuli that are present around him in this place.*Returning those to their proper pile as well as placing a few items back into position on my desks, I notice that the door to the Meeting Room is open. I had noticed this upon entry to my room, but realize I had partitioned this information until now.Yes, of course. The error in logic, the fallacy upon existence as I know it in this realm. My mind craves the unknown, but at the same time knows I am incapable. To know him is to remember myself. It was known. It was intentionally forgotten. A willingness to banish information is not becoming of one of my realm of study. I must learn more, and by knowing I will learn what questions are left unanswered. After all, if a wedding can free a God, what information can be divulged from this?I slowly open the door the rest of the way, but make no sudden move to enter it. Sensing the stillness, I enter and go to shut the door carefully behind me before an old memory flits in my awareness and then vanishes. I remember the portents of barred escape: entrapment, isolation, and discipline. He will be trapped here with me until I have completed my interaction and then I will leave him to steep in it. This is the way that is expected.But there was another way. There was a comfort in those times. Still standing at the door, I dig deep through memories, looking for the source of those long-lost safe interactions. Old memories shout at me from far removed places, etiquettes that have been intentionally abandoned, expectations to which I've liberated myself, politics I remember in disdain, and then I find it, and a sensation grips me deep. Somewhere in my chest I feel a sharp tug, then a lurch of my little eaten meal in my stomach.The only comfort in those days was Father.Yes of course. Father had a way to make me understand my place, but know that there was a hidden safety. If I can remember, perhaps I can utilize his methods to comfort my young grieving self. For the first time in my life since his sacrifice at the hands of my mother, I find myself seeking his council. It is so unlike finding his study knife, wherein his research was open and bare before me, in this I must remember. Each interaction, each nuance bears weight, all at a time I was too young to understand the subtlety of it all.How did Father do it? It’s been so very long, and while I had received his gentle safety, my young eyes had not been able to see and assess what made these interactions safe. With my current perspective, I comb through these memories and hope for answers. The places in my mind where these memories are stored are guarded. There are failsafe measures protecting them against harm. Bottled thoughts on shelves stored and locked away, embalmed to keep them preserved and uninterrupted through time. Where have I put the answers to these long lost questions?Ah, yes, he always left the door ajar, an escape from freights, but with the illusion of a trap from outside observation. A way unbarred reminds you there is an exit. I reopen the door just enough that a passerby would presume it closed. Enough that the latch itself would be all that held the door from it’s stable resting place but to allow someone past unhindered and without delay should they choose to leave. This detail corrected, I turn to enter the room.What I notice right away is the pungent scent of bile. The vile scent of it familiar, though not just as a recollection of the recent poisoning of myself and Walnut that played out in this very room. No, I remember a state of being that is still his reality, whereas it is my past. He has eaten too quickly while in a state of shock. In his perception of a Matron’s order, he ate beyond his means. He must have perceived the completion of the task ‘eating’ as a viable escape from what he must be considering the Matron of his ancestral enemies, and while understanding the consequences, followed dutifully so that he could be dismissed. To be out of sight is safer. Obey and hide. It makes perfect sense. Or it did, once.I go to call for him, but find the name gets caught in my throat. This will not do. It’s just a word, there is no meaning to it in this context. He has not fallen, so he does not deserve his title of descent. He still has his name, but weak as I still am, I cannot bring myself to say it. He is me, and that was my name, it is the name I should have, but it is also not my name, and should not be my name ever again. I left that belief and I have no intention of alluding that I accept it. Not now or ever. I am a non-believer of Her ways, and I am not ashamed of my worship in the UR. But it is still my name, even if the House I came from is no longer in existence, the name of my self was mine and taken from me by culture and context.I will find something else to be called instead.With a few careful steps I walk into the room. I notice without needing to approach that the bile is strongest from the basket used for our trash. I make a note to clean it on our way out. But do my best to ignore it at present. Dimly I remember Father ignoring such signs until after metered discussion. It will wait. It will not be ignored, but it will not be addressed until needed, and by not addressing it, the thought lingers while it’s rank in priorities is made clear. It is lesser than the discussion, and that should be significant. Or so I hope.There is a sniffle within the room.Momentarily I pause. It takes no effort on my part for my eyes to find meat, and I know where he hides immediately.So why do I hesitate? He is just a child. Just me as a child. I should know what he needs, I know what he fears and yet… I do not wish to approach him. I do not know how to speak to him, my legs will not move closer and as my lungs begin to ache, I realize I am not breathing.How very curious.These are the results of a chemical reaction that seems to be physically manifesting as a complex emotion. I have trained myself to not feel these emotions, so the answer must be that in my recollection of being him I have begun to experience the memory physically. I am merely aware of them because I recall being him, yes. That must be the case. In his presence I am taking on the burden of his sorrow and fear, there is no other explanation. The pity and sympathy are simply a countermeasure my more matured mind is attempting to subdue these burdens with. Understanding this now, I can relate how unnecessary these reactions are. They will not help me seek these answers. I must approach him and breach the subject so that I may, as they say, ‘burst the bubble’ and allow conversation to flow steadily thereafter.I make my way swiftly to Walnut’s Wizard Cart Trophy. Behind it, tucked in the corner, I see two well dressed feet and the fringe of the House Regalia.“Hello young friend. Are you feeling well?”Yes, this is more agreeable. A soft tone, the smile returns to my face. I hear him shift and sniffle again, then a sound I have not heard from ears so distant the act, I hear myself wipe the tears from my eyes.He needs another moment, and I will not force him to rush. What would Father do when I hid? How did he offer me the time I needed to admit my failures of character? Why can I not remember in this moment? On what dark shelf did I store those memories?“If you need another moment still, I can wait for you in my room, though if you would like to spend some hours alone, I may make my way into my F- into my study. If you desire company, simply shout for me. I should hear you eventually.”He rustles some more, but rather than find his footing, I note that he disappears more behind the hulking chalice. I have no desire to pressure him. I am not his father. I am an elder, one who abandoned the House and did the unspeakable. I- he doesn’t need the added stress on his already tenuous grasp on the situation. He is overwhelmed. My present self will leave him to make sense of it. After another moment’s pause, I return to my room.Before I depart, I use Prestidigitation to clear out the trash, and then make the decision to leave my adjoining door wide open. This should seem welcoming. I think?I leave my hallway door ajar for good measure just in case. He can enter my room, or he can walk past me to the hall. Yes, I think that is sufficient. I stand in front of it a few moments, considering leaving it wide open as well, but determine that leaving it open just a foot should suffice. I put my father’s study knife on the table near the wall, and set about clearing off some space in front of it. I have barely enough time to sit and prepare to document my notes on my encounter with the fomes frigamortis, when I hear the soft click of his shoes enter my room. I nearly turn to face him, but then stop myself. I gesture to the door leading to the hallway and use a simple sign that means an exit/escape , then continue setting my journal and inks. This I remember. This is what Father did when I would enter his study or join him in one of the great halls and rooms. I knew I needed to talk, and he would gesture to an exit to remind me I could leave at any time. Yes. I will see if he is ready to talk.He steps closer, so I nod. When he is close enough, I smile broadly and turn to face him. It has been decided, we will talk.Father didn't smile as I do, though, did he? Ah, but unfortunately I am not him. I'm mad , after all, so it can’t be helped. This is what I know now, this is how the folk of the Surface find comfort. Maybe it will work on him as well, and I simply never knew it as a child since it was so scarcely afforded. The smile remains.“Welcome. You're feeling better I hope?”He nods at me, but he stares at me in a way I don’t remember doing. Is this how I once looked when assessing new information?“Your companions” friends “are… unique” matrons?“They are unique, but not as you expect. We have gone through much, and I consider them reliable, when at times I am not certain I can say the same for myself.”I can see in his expression that he makes note of my lack of Salk De’rahi, but I have sat on my hands intentionally. I was unaware I still did the trait, and knowing that he can read it makes me wonder if I will betray my thoughts to the open.“You are a Rah’uuthli,” Family. Ally. I cannot help myself, I wince at the mention of a name he still desperately seeks to find comfort in but to which my adult self feels as a visceral accusation. Unfortunately his statement is also true and visibly so. I cannot deny it, and so I don't. I nod. Deep within the concealment of my robes, there is a stir, and Ligotti makes it clear that he has thawed and senses my discomfort. At the moment, however, he remains silent.“But you are on the surface with a Darthiir and others.” enemy warriors “You call them…” friends . “I don’t understand.” as communicated . He pauses for a moment and I’m not sure if he’s truly waiting for an answer, or if he is merely setting up his next piece of information. I let the silence linger, but only because I search my memories for a situation in which might have any similarities to the one he is in. I find none. Would I expect to be cut off and silenced now, or would I continue? In my hesitation to find the correct way to respond as an elder, he has decided to press on “I don’t remember any others named Thriss. Who are you?” Your mother and title . “Why did.. Why did you…”“Ah yes. Such a question would be simple in any context other than this one, my young friend. Unfortunately, the situation being as it is, they are less comprehensible, even to me. It is true that we are of the same family” House . “But much of what I know of my lineage and the state of my relatives would be unknown to you through proximity.” It’s complicated. You will know when it is time. “She said you killed your mother .” You monster! I cannot help it. I chuckle. A dark thick thing. Full of a malice I did not know I contained. The frustrations of my recent adventures, the weight of my home reunion . It is a sludge that would wither even the most hardy of life-forms and yet I contain it and all it’s dark layers within my heart and mind. Disappointment of existence and disapproval by the blood of my lineage. Poison.Inside my robe, Ligotti is aware of my reaction and I can feel him move about. He is silent, even his movement makes no sound. Telepathically, I let him know that I am well, there is no concern.With his crystalline telepathic vocalisations, he replies, “Father, it is small. Young. It is no threat. Surely I can consume it for you?”
“Oh sweet boy. It is not a threat, in that you are correct, but neither does it need to be removed from it’s life. There may yet be a way to return it to whence it came.”

“Father, sometimes where a thing belongs is as the food of another.”

“Perhaps. But in this instance, I do not believe that will be the case.”
I have not verbally responded beyond my unexpected chuckle, and in the interim as I spoke to my tentacular son, the child-self’s eyes have widened. And understandably: To kill a mother is a great offense. It is in most cultures, as I’ve seen, even those which mothers are not considered the spiritual and physical manifestation of authority within the society.“It is true, though this is not why I do not bear the House name,” and instead use escapee. “That came first. I knew I did not have station within the House,” Weak and useless “and there were mitigating circumstances that led to my decaying sense of worship for the Queen of Spiders.” Pedestrian behaviour. Unworthy of praise. “My situation, as Walnut so eloquently put it, was a result of our work.” Simply business.I can feel a tension in my chest. In the retelling, even as abridged as it is, I relive the experience. As a Drider as once in Drow form, I see her burning gaze look upon me with disgust and hatred. I feel a twitch of the muscles of my face and try to pinpoint which muscle has failed me. I make a visible escape by looking to my desk, prepared for notes but not yet utilised. I should really write these thoughts down before I forget them, but to end this conversation here presumes my guilt.With a smile I turn back to this boy and see again how truly young I was.“But she was your lineage…” The House is all.  “At that point, she was simply a Drider. Certainly, she was mad.” Fallen ruler. “If you believe in the words of the Spider Queen, then you know what that means. Is it wrong to kill one who is unworthy?” A disappointment? But was she as mad as I? Or in my haste did she deserve it regardless of any mental state the transformation may have resulted? And yet, is it I who was the disappointment, in her eyes, her in Lolth’s, or her in mine? Ah, what a complexity of layers. Even the Salk De’rahi fails in this context. And still, though I cannot bear to admit this to him at this time, he is surely aware that we have sacrificed others for far lesser offenses… such as insufficient piety… Such as father - or at least, as far as he is aware. This young self has not learned the full truth yet.He is not sure how to take this information. He wouldn’t, couldn’t consider this possibility. He fears his Mother, and she is cruel to him, but he has not considered beyond that. He simply knows that she reminds him that to mourn is his weakness. He is aware that she knows his fears and tenderness, that he needs to become much greater in mind and in body before he can stand to serve any purpose to the House. That as a consort or mate he is without value and that until he makes some other name for himself in honor of his family, he is as trash. He does not see it outside of the context of the Matron’s vision because Her way is the only way. He is the obstacle, his own existence something he must bear; a burden he must overcome.Soon he will become far worse at appeasing her. His fear will turn him away, he will seek other information and avenues. He will stray from the truths he thought were based in fact, but instead based in fear. Eventually he will escape, and see beyond what he thought possible. He will grow to see that this rigid structure of his early days is not the requisite path for life. He will seek his own answers, organizations, curiosities.But this boy is not yet me. He does not understand the weight of these many layers of convolution. There has not yet been an escape followed by decades of hiding below the Surface. There was no time spent amongst the Surface Folk to alter his perceptions on existence. There is no UR to him. There is no Sanguilith. To him all that is true is the order and magnitude of his House.We are unmoving for a time, then he looks to my desk. At first he just moves his eyes, then he turns his face to see what I had set up.“What were you doing?” Letters? “Ah, yes!” No . “I was about to write some notes about a discovery I made this morning. It was a most curious event! See there was a form of mushroom I had read about and-”From my corner eyes I see Rosie peeking into my room from the Meeting Room. The door was left open, and so she plainly looks inside. I go to turn my head to face her, but she slips away and out of sight.“Wh-? What is it?” Being observed? His voice hitches in a minor way, but noticeably. His head swings around looking at both doors, but there is nothing to see.“Ah, it was nothing.” Yes. “Though I suppose my studies can wait,” All clear. “Donaar had made a rather valid point that we should find you attire more suitable for Surface interaction.” Lolth iconography...Unwelcome. “Additionally, as my excursion has taught me, warmer attire may be applicable for the inclement weather. Perhaps I can get myself a more appropriate hat while we are out.”“What is a weather?”This pauses me for a moment. I had not realized how accustomed I was to the Surface that such thing as weather would seem so normal to me. How does one describe such a thing?“Ah yes. Weather is… In the sky there are formations that can hold many disparate events. Wind, rain, sleet, snow, heat, cold - these things do not exist in the same way below the Surface, but you might compare them to the heat vents, dirtfall as a result of faulting, humidity and drainage resulting from the geothermal actions that encompass the changes in daily excursions of the Underdark. Additionally there is also the Day Star, which has the colloquial name of ‘sun’. This is the most cruel of weather factors, and I recommend a hat.”“A hat?” armor? No. “I used to wear it to protect my eyes from the light of this ‘sun’.” Blinding pain. “My current one, however, does not protect from cold…” or light. “Then why do you wear it?” It pleases me. Came my immediate and completely unintentional answer. A vanity I had only once expressed to Auspicia** and none others. He will certainly take poorly to this. I had never considered dressing in any way that was for pleasure or pulchritude at his age. Indeed, these purely aesthetic intentions would be ill-placed on one such as myself. One who is neither interested in courting nor acceptable as a Drow consort. I find that I do not wish to see his reaction to this answer, and so I stand and push my chair into my desk and pack up my book, ink and Father’s study knife.“Perhaps you can borrow it for the time being as I show you around Red Larch?”“Why would I want something that does not protect?” [It is] worthless.I barely see his hands in my peripheral but realize I had been misunderstood while also acknowledging that this hat has become an analogy. Or perhaps I am the one who sees the analogy? Is it in the distance of many centuries, or the proximity of him at this age that causes me to find the similarity in this hat which cannot protect… and a son who could not be as the Matron demanded? A son who could not defend. Worthless.I choose to address the material good, rather than the esoteric distillation of personal value.“Oh, no, the hat does protect from sun! It is quite useful, even as it is. However,” I remove my blindfold, “The eyes I have now are not sensitive to the harshness of bright lights. The skin, of course, still is, so we will keep the flesh covered as well.”He is so plainly and blatantly dumbfounded that I nearly imitate his expression. There is a question - indeed many questions forming in his mind as he gazes upon my many eyes. In fact, it’s such an unexpected sight, that having the chance to observe it in this way can be called nothing short of amusing. His eyes are wide and his mouth ajar. My eyes were so expressive, I must have started to forget how they functioned in this short year and a half since their rupture. Mine are so frequently covered these days and do not bear the more observable attributes of refractive cornea. I have not found a way to show the same level of complex meaning and expression in my newer compound eye structure, though admittedly, the request to keep them covered constantly means that I do not often have much chance to attempt to do so. I see now how useful such a common corneal arrangement can be, and I smile just a bit in a moment of pure observational delight.Immediately he shuts his mouth and stands taller. The pupils contract in a momentary fear, “What is my error?” [You] smiling. Negative/dismissal. “I simply find you amusing. It has been a very long time.” Welcome reunion. He gives me a careful look, and I reapply my blindfold.“Rosie handed you my old cloak. If you do wish to see the town, then it might be best to don it.” For warmth. I add once my hands are done tying the knot.“I would rather not.” [It’s] filthy. A sound comes from me - ah yes, a chuckle. I smile at him and he reacts as he should, offended at my lack of sympathy for his situation. For contrast, I look to my own attire: tattered cloak and dusty vestments, the desecrated carcass-made-vest of my friend the Lizard King, a slobbering bag that holds the party’s assets, my familiar and servant coiled about me, and a chipped piece from a dark altar.“Perhaps you will need some time to adjust. For now, consider it more of a covering so that those who fear the Queen of Spiders do not presume you to be the type of Drow they’ve heard stories about.” Evil murderers. Monsters. “However, this town is familiar with me, and as you match my pigmentation I believe they will be somewhat kind to you.” This is my House, now.He blinks at me in continued awe and my smile cannot help but to expand. Whereas often it is forced, this one comes naturally. With a bit of a jump in my step, I head to the door.“If you would like to collect the cloak, I will await you downstairs. Perhaps, if Propha has returned, I can acquire something for us to drink before we depart. With any luck, the warmth of the Day Star will have melted some of the nights snow - ah! Snow is a frozen precipitation that makes unique shapes, and is wholly unlike ice! You will see when we venture forth!”He follows my fluid motion out of the room with his eyes, but does not immediately stir. Closing the door behind myself, I head down the stairs nearly humming a tune. He is at once very like what I expect, and yet somewhat different then I remember. The result of his surrounding interactions and stimuli have led him to act in ways I did not think I would. Though how would I know what form of interactions I would have without being pressed into such an uncanny situation?“ Father, it does not belong here.” “Agreed, but under the condition that nothing truly belongs anywhere, my sweet Ligotti.” When I return to the Common Room downstairs, I see that a few afternoon regulars have made it to the inn. As usual, I leave them to their meals and work, instead heading to the kitchen door. I know better than to step very far in, but even from the threshold I am able to see Auspicia and Propha working on the evening's meal prep.“Hello friends, I hope I do not disturb you,” I say into the room with a bit more cheer than I had initially intended.Propha turns to me, then looks at her daughter who exchanges a look with her that I cannot see from where I stand. They share a nod, and then Propha takes a few powerful steps in my direction.“How are you? The others mentioned some weird experiment of yours. Is everything resolved?” Her tone is as calm and short as usual. A form of Matron strength, but one I have yet to feel intimidated or unsafe under the presence of. Indeed, I have seen her strength in combat, but her strength seems more in compliment to my continued existence than in conflict with it.“Oh, not my experiment, actually. Unclear the origins. To that end, I was about to take myself on a bit of a shopping excursion to get him more appropriate clothing. That said, at his current age, I do not believe I had experienced a chill like exists outside today. Is there some form of concoction at your disposal that may warm us for our travels to replace his attire?”Propha does not move for a moment, and so I smile at her unwaveringly. She looks at all my clothing and gear. My cloak is mostly dry from my excursion, and the rest of my attire is too dark to tell, but I believe that if any being were capable of assessing where I had been, she would be a likely candidate. I’ve heard Rosie and her commiserate about it being a “mother thing” though as to what that means I am not entirely certain.“And where did you go this morning exactly?”“I had left in the early morning darkness to seek a particular fungus. I even got frostbite! Though Donaar has healed most of it, and the last afflicting toe seems to have recovered fully. Have you ever experienced such a thing it’s quite-”“Good. So you’re safe.”“I should think.” Yes . She nods at me firmly, then turns around, searching for something. I remain in the doorway as she calls back to me, “And you don’t know anything about how this blue-drow kid got here?”“Afraid not. Though I do find his presence to be… unique.”She turns back to me and gives a short look that I cannot determine the meaning of, and simply repeats, “Unique?” As though she were dropping a five pound meat pie on the table in front of us. Factual and weighty.“Yes. I will study his presence and origination as much as I am able, preferably without killing him.” Probably. I see her begin to heat something on the burner. “So is he or isn’t he you?”“Oh he is most certainly me. A much younger me. I don’t remember this experience, so I presume it will either be forgotten or be un-done when I can ascertain the reason his Causality is disrupted.”“Good. You do that. Now get out of the kitchen. I’ll bring your drink out when it’s ready.”I bow to her deeply and oblige. As I do so, my eyes realize that my hands were still in the “as communicated” position. I wonder how much of what I verbally said, I had telegraphed peripherally through Salk De’rahi. Is it possible that in my learning that the people of the Surface did not use Salk De’rahi, that I had replaced parts of one culture for the aspects of another? Thinking back to the interaction I had with him, I discover that he had used nearly as much hand signals as verbal words. Have I then replaced these Drow gestures with spoken word? Additionally, then, is it possible that I have also adopted some of the more abstract gestures of these Surface cultures? What an interesting notion. I wonder what other traits evolved over my existence here. Through him, perhaps I can see my own change, and in knowing the change, remember what is missing. With two fixed data points, it may be easier to rule out the intermediary steps it took to go between them.Perhaps this occurrence can help me to understand the UR and the Sanguilith and my ties with them. I had removed myself from Causality, and his may be so as well, but as such, we may be data points in a vacuum. It is of course hard to know exactly since the point in the timeline he was removed from was before any remembered interaction with either entity.As I wait for him to come downstairs, I set myself in the darkest corner and write my notes for the day. I find that swiftly, they turn to ways to better study myself - him. Perhaps while he trances I can find a connection to the UR that will reveal where his threads lead, or determine where to connect this boy out of time. Or perhaps time is not linear at all***. Perhaps this is precisely where he is meant to be and how to be and I simply need to remember this fragment.When the clicking of his shoes is heard coming down the stairs, I look up and see him carrying the cloak I had worn when I was my previous K’thrissian incarnation… in his arms.Ah, this will not do, there are guests in this inn. I hear one of them grumble and look to him.“Wonderful! I see you have found it!” I realize I have spoken in Common by his confused expression, and repeat it in Elvish, but then resume in Common, “We just need to get you prepared, then.”He has a stubbornness to him. He has not moved away from me, but as I wrap the cloak about him he seems to give me an expression of betrayal. Amusing. I wrap it around him twice for good measure.“It is very cold out.” I say aloud. With Awakened Mind, I append “ It is very very cold out, and bright. Let me help you dress.” He jumps a bit at my internal infiltration. Not realizing he can respond in mind as well, he replies audibly in Elvish, “But it’s filthy . Why are all your clothes so filthy ?”“Because no one can tell me they can't be.” I respond in our shared language. “Their scars are mine, as are the physical ones I carry on my flesh. It all bears meaning, and that meaning is what makes me what I am.” I pause for a bit, and then smile with some amusement and realize, “Additionally, people typically don’t fear a truly filthy Drow, so I find some reprieve in that. Being unremarkable is sometimes quite remarkable!”The people of the inn see me aide my young self, and seem to return their attention to their own matters. As I finish modifying the clasp so that he can be warm within his attire, I reach my hands into the slobbering maw that is my Hoardsperson Bag and withdraw my sun hat with little difficulty. It is soaking wet and as I hold it before him he pales.“Why is it wet?” DISGUSTING . “AH! Of course, that is no matter! I had forgotten that you have no spells yet! Allow me.”With a short flourish that perhaps is more showy than required, but absolutely necessary from my perspective, I toss the hat into the air, use a sparkling rendition of Prestidigitation and immediately dry the hat. I catch it, beaming and gingerly place it upon his head and fasten it into place with a ribbon. White tufts of hair poke out at the sides of his face.With a look of unadulterated cynicism, he glances up at me. There is a silence for a moment, and I straighten a little from my usual slump to better observe him, clasping my two hands in a way that is more Surface adoration, than Drow meaningful gesture. I dare say, I am precious like this.“I’m sorry,” He starts, “ yet?” “Hmm?” My eyebrows raise.“You said ‘you have no spells yet’ What makes you think I ever will?”“Did I say that? Oh” My Mistake. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” Woops. “Woops what? I don’t understand you sometimes.” Your hands keep talking . “Do you know me?” If yes, who are you? “How could- is this because you’re a” Arcane magician -  warlock? “Can you see the future?” Are you confusing people, or the past and present? I take one elbow in the opposite hand and then place the other on my chin and I begun scratching my beard. Speaking of these follicular growths, I see his are lacking. Interesting.“You’re smarter than I remember being at that age.” He goes to interject, but hesitates and squints at me. I continue, “No, I am afraid I have no foresight. Frankly I am missing large swaths of post sight. Perhaps we can call it, hmm, a suspicion. Yes, I think that is close enough to accurate. In either case, I’m sure it’s insubstantial. We need to prepare you for an unprecedented stay on the Surface until such a time as we can replace you in your proper chronological or cosmological setting.”“What if I don’t wish to return?” There is nothing for me there. Ah, a good question. “Do you mean that, or is it simply the flight-of-fancy of an adolescent?”My stomach drops, suddenly. In truth, I do not know how sincere he is. If I’d had the opportunity to leave at his age, would I have taken it? Ah but if I had, then the UR would never have been discovered. But then again, would the Sanguilith have not been granted power as well? And even still, he would not be aware of these factors.Ligotti vocalizes at this pause, and pokes his head out of my cloak. With a continuing barrage of clicks, he responds, which I hear as intended in my mind, “ Father, he will distract you. He cannot stay, or if he stays he will become meat. It is his purpose.” “Not now, my precious boy.”“ Father, I think this larvae is a burden on our purpose. At least my own larvae were of use and could consume flesh and bone. His mouth is as yours, but he is without the great purpose that you have though your pact.” “Agreed, but alas, it is winter, and as there is not much else to do there is time aplenty to study these disparities. In the meantime, we shall prepare for an indefinite stay!”
“But Father-”
“Oh dear precious boy, we have so very much to do before the sun falls.” I pat Ligotti on the head a few times and he subdues for the time being, his gaze still facing the youthful version of myself. As I look over to him, I see that he has raised his two hands in a gesture that conveys Inquiry/ies , and so I nod to him, then turn to gather my book and quill from my dark corner table.“I have several, First: what is this entity and how do you understand it?”“Oh yes, this is Ligotti,” Ligah ti’bux “He is my familiar. I summoned him from a great tentacle!” I pet Ligotti’s head, “He is my precious son, as are all of my more fleeting summons.”“Speaking of summons,” Comes the booming and strong voice of Propha, conveyed in Elvish, “I may ask you to summon a Velvet or two after you get back. The ice in the stable is causing an issue and I don’t have time to do it. Your drinks.”She hands over the drinks to me in tall beer mugs, and shifts her eyes to my younger body wearing my old cloak and bright sun hat. I realize in this instant that I’ve never heard her speak in Elvish, and her strong presence of tone becomes a different force in this iteration. Whereas in Common it is the boulder that is sturdy and impactful, in Elvish it is the torrent of a river that can cleave mountains.“Certainly! Will two be all you require?”“It will suffice,” with the most subtle of nods, she then turns away and heads back into the kitchen.I hand one of the large mugs to my young self. “This should preemptively warm us for a bit of walking outside.” As I hand him the cup, I see him look at my hand, then to the back of Propha disappearing into the kitchen.“What is it?” Is it safe?“Oh, I don't know. I’m sure it’s fine.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

With immeasurable incredulity, I look to this elder male Drow. How can he not know what it is? How does he know if it is safe? His hands are occupied with the drink, so he cannot use them to say anything, and he lacks proper eyes by which to convey emotion. He doesn’t even hold these large mugs in the proper way. He holds them like… like...I take a look around and realize that everyone present in the room holds their mugs in this way. Thinking back, it makes sense. The Dragon would not have nearly stabbed me with his talon to point out my own way of holding a mug - though, admittedly a much smaller mug - if it had not been unusual. Am I expected to hold it in the same way? Is there a significance to this? Does holding the mug this way imply something? Are the poisons here not strong enough to kill? Is this a sign of trust? Or is it a sign of power in that a poison cannot affect these people or that they can survive and cure it? They are not Drow, and he does not act as one I have seen before. Am I am missing the context, altogether?I take the mug by cupping it in both hands.Once I do he stands up a bit more and takes a sip immediately. I notice that he is holding the cup by the odd scrolling detail that makes a long arc from its base to its rim, and so I mimic this grip. If I cannot know the social cues at the start, I will simply have to follow in his example*.“Ah, I believe it is a mead-cider. It should warm us enough,” With a flourish that is completely unbecoming of both the attire he dons and his station as I know it, he spins about to the bar where I had sat earlier. The chairs that were there appear to have been moved to an area near what I have identified to be something of a modest stage. Without chairs to use, he simply stands there and drinks his warm liquid.I give mine a glance and a cursory smell, then look to him. He hadn’t taken note of which he’d taken, had he? Is one poisoned but not the other? Are they both safe? He seems fine at present, but… there is also something about him that seems amiss. As though he is a Drow only in appearance. His Salk De’rahi is still of our House, but it’s execution is almost lazy. Unpracticed. Other gestures in his speaking seemed to convey no meaning whatsoever. The Warrior had made gestures, perhaps there is a surface language that is also loosely forbidden. If I continue to observe him, maybe I can learn these nuances.As I watch him at the bar, his weird geode serpent - tentacle? - pivots as he moves so that the end of its… Well, I think it’s a face but it’s mouth is along the wrong axis and it has no eyes that I am familiar. Regardless, it pivots so that it continues to point in my direction. As I slowly make my way over to him, the warm cup heating my hands, I see that the tentacle continues slowly emerging from under his cloak. Has it been there the whole time?“You called it… native servant?”“Yes! I call him Ligotti for short. I suppose some disambiguation in our names may also be required in the future, though. As you are aware, I am called K’Thriss, and Donaar has taken to calling you - ah - how would I translate that so that it holds the same phonetics… Linguistically it means ‘child Thriss’ whereas he calls me ‘large Thriss’ or my assumed name ‘K’thriss’, either of which is acceptable to me. Ah yes! ki'kiheri Thriss would be the closest, though phonetically it is pronounced ‘kid’ Thriss in Common.”Does he always ramble like this? I mean, I suppose it is quite informative, but… It’s rather unbecoming isn’t it? Should a male be so frequently heard?“At any rate, you should drink your beverage so that we can depart.”He also smiles a lot.I look to my quite large drink, then around the room. None of them seem to be smiling. But also much fewer of them seem to be staring at us than I anticipated. I see glances, but they seem more curious than loathsome. I hear the soft tap of his own mug onto the counter, and then he folds his hands into a patient gesture. I look at the mug again. It smells interesting.I drink a sip. It’s.. sweet in a way I had not tasted before the morning pastries offered by the Grandmother. There is a scent to it that is also sweet and strong. I am unfamiliar with the combination. Is it some form of surface tuber? Some plant that they use as food up here? I glance up at him again, but his position is unchanged so I take another careful sip, attempting to dissect the flavor. There is a bitterness to it, something tangy and sharp in the back-middle of the flavor profile, but it does not overwhelm the rest of the flavor. I find that I seem to like it a bit. I don’t want to keep him waiting for me so I quickly down the rest of it. He is right, it is warm, and with it I feel an additional sense of warmth in my cheeks and the tips of my ears. I wonder what this potion must be, some brew that increases cold resistance to endure this ‘weh’thur’ he has mentioned?“Wonderful! We shall away then!”In the language of the surface people, I hear him call back into the servants area, which the Fortress Mistress then responds to. With that he spins back to me and nods, then turns the long way to face the door and begins to make his way to it.I stare at his back for a moment as it recedes away from me, and consider the indirect and downright offensive way he spoke to such an intimidating woman, yet with genuine tone and without repercussion. With the slightest glance to the door of the servants area, I begin to follow him. He waits for me at the exit door and grabs the handle. Before opening it, he leans down to me and speaks with a tone that sounds serious, but he delivers it with a wide smile. He’s so very close to me that I can’t help but be certain that his face is gaunt and scarred, especially near his blindfold. Additionally, he has the affliction I have been forced to hide these last few years. Is it simply another curse that male Rah’uuthli must suffer? An additional slight that makes us so beneath our contemporaries? Yet unlike me, he has allowed it to grow freely on his face. His hair - nearly all of it - is an unnatural black, as well. Is this due to his time on the Surface? My thoughts are interrupted by his solemn words.“It is brighter out there than you would believe possible. I would suggest drawing the cloak up to block the reflection from the snow.”“Reflections?”“Yes, there is some effect the Day Star has that enables it to reflect off certain surfaces of light color or slick texture. Certainly you have seen this from the cast lights and lichen of the depths? It is as that, but much more intense.”I know what he means, of course, a reflection is a reflection, but how can a reflection hurt the eyes? I nod and oblige, lifting the neck of the cloak to my nose and holding it in place with one hand. This seems to satisfy him and he nods, standing up again, then opens the door and ushers me out quickly.His hand is centered on my back, and without his guiding push, I feel I would be reeling in a realm of white blindness. I can hear him shut the door behind us, but the world around me is a whitewashed blur - the inverse of any vision my eyes have ever anticipated coming in contact with. The air is brisk and dry and coupled with the searing brightness, my eyes water instantaneously. My hands rub my face with the old cloak and I try to quickly regain my bearings. He does not let the weakness linger, and gently… gently guides me forward.After innumerable blinks I am able to regain some semblance of sight, and take a look around. The structure of this ‘town’ is something I have only heard described in books, and even then there is such a vast difference from word to actuality that I find I am unsure which direction to focus my gaze.I must have hesitated in my step, because he chimes up then, accompanied by a chirp from his odd familiar which has returned beneath his cloak, “It is much to take in, for sure. I would caution you to keep your gaze groundward for now. We can tackle the endlessness of the sky at a time when it is less harsh to behold.”I look up to him, and see him looking ahead. His odd gemstone eyes must truly be immune to this light, then. Or is it the blindfold? Turning my attention forward I try to make sense of what is around me.“This… powder” I annunciate my inquiry with a kick of the particulate around us, “This is the ‘snow’ you mentioned?”“AH! Yes!” With a wave of excitement he faces me bodily. “Yes you have not seen it yet, indeed! We should not stay out long, but you are welcome to examine it! I have found that there are many forms it can take, while still being classified as snow, though I have read that some regions have different names for these varied phases of it. Indeed! At times it is light and soft as now, and others wet and dense. Even others it may be soft underneath, but as ice on top! I have found that weather and the understanding of it was one of the more complex nuances I had to learn upon arriving upon the Surface. With some guidance it should be somewhat easier for you to learn of it.”I have bent to take some in my hand. It is water, certainly, and the warmth in my hand gradually causes it to melt. I taste a small portion to see if it’s change in texture causes any likewise change in flavor. Certainly the ice of the Underdark is known to obtain the flavor of the minerals from the rocks which it emerges, does this ‘sky’ also flavor the waters it precipitates? I find no such flavoring here. Perhaps additional samples will need to be taken.“Ah, do be careful tasting it. Contamination is often predicated by discoloration, but I have found that there are, as with all things, exceptions to this.”I stand and look around. Wooden abodes with stone structures, stone structure with wood accents, combinations thereof. None of them more than a few scant stories tall. They all surround us. covered in this particulate so thick that in some cases it rises to the transparent frames of their simple windows. The pathways are wide and where there seems to be the least ‘snow’ there is the most foot traffic. The avenue travels around us at a curve, and I can see a junction or two a ways off, though the distance coupled with the reflective vibrance of light makes it hard to see clearly.“You came to the Surface alone?”“Hmm?” He uses that tone again, the one that seems as though he doesn’t know what I mean, but his body language… His hands tell me he does.“You implied that you needed to learn the nuances of weather alone by stating that your guidance would make it simpler for me.”I finish my turn to face him. The bright hat he placed on my head obscures some of my vision, but I can see him clearly enough to notice his smile falter briefly. His hands do not move for a moment, but then they simply say Ah yes, of course . This is neither enlightening nor helpful without a clarification of context. I open my mouth to rephrase but am cut off by him.“The clothier is this way. Do keep up.”And with that simple declaration he continues walking up ahead of me. I scurry to catch up. He is not much taller than me, but he seems to have a much quicker gait than me. Perhaps he is more used to traversing this snow , as I find it leaves me somewhat off-balance.Now that I mention it, his height is worth considering. He’s taller than some females that I know. Curious. I wonder what that would be like. Though, as I look at him with a blue skin that matches my own, I can imagine not particularly beneficial. I hope I never get taller. I’m already taller than many other males I’ve encountered. How unfortunate that would be.We walk in relative silence for a bit, me slightly behind him trying to keep my footing and my balance on the slippery mush we wade. He seems to have no difficulty with it at all, which is almost embarrassing, but I hope that the fact that these surface experiences are new to me allows for some margin of error. Periodically I hear someone call to him. It’s jarring at first as I initially fear it’s a call to me. That I’ve been found in this place where I am not meant to be, where I do not belong. After the first two calls, I begin to more accurately listen for the ‘k’ before his name, and I simply look to the voices talking to him as we pass, gesturing with a waving hand gesture at their head level.At one such call for attention, the person leaves the old structure they were in and approaches us. It is a small human male, and he looks at… at K’thriss and talks to him in Common. He looks to me at one point, and I find that I instinctually duck behind my superior in this situation. It should be embarrassing, but the human seems to not care much and continues talking with him, then looks over in the direction that we came from and sighs before turning the direction he originated.I emerge from my position behind my superi- K’thriss and watch the human return into the structure he came from. Inside I see creatures akin to the k’lerk mur but lacking the massive antennae. With them are assorted structures that I can see resemble wagons, though their manufacture is unlike what I am familiar, as they are made almost completely of wood. With a soft tisk, K’thriss turns and continues on his way, and so I scuttle after him.“What did he want?”“Ah, he was asking about Rosie” Sexual inquiry, likely. “They had some few encounters. I believe she considers him less than worthy mate at this juncture, as you might have observed for yourself.”“AH! I see” Looking back at his dejected form, “so he was a consort then? Are they generous to their consorts on the Surface?” Without him facing me, I find I am forced to say more words openly, as gesture would be lost to his back.“Oh… consort is perhaps presumptuous. I believe. Hmm. I believe Rosie has a term for it, but I’ve forgotten. Something for a person you only have intention to pleasure with once. I admit, I am not particularly interested in those rituals, and so I don’t pay much attention to them aside from the base level of study.”“Really?” Am I not alone in feeling little to no desire to participate in a courtship that I know I will be unworthy of? He is so confident in admitting it. Are there others who also share this opinion? Are there places for people like us on this Surface World? Did he know, and, “Is that why you left…” Home? The thought stops me in my tracks. Just minutes before did I not ask to remain here? State that there was nothing waiting for me there? At home ? And there isn’t. I am a male of a failing House. Of a House my mother attempts to bring up from the depths that I can only consider that we deserved to falling into. Of a history so beyond what I can comprehend that any expectation for a male of my standing and temperament would simply be inadequate to the measure required to restore this shamble of a House . I am just a male and unable to aid in Her quest. One who bears the trait that makes my lineage obvious, that would taint any child I might sire. I am worthless, and worse, I do not even express interest in the game that could otherwise win me favor. To be a consort? A thing to use as desired by one who will rule me completely? I am too like my father, she would say. Softer even than he. Worthless. Fit only as a sacrifice. Is this what I want to return to? What home could I possibly mean? Guallidurth? Vervemith’deshmal? House Rah’uuthli? Not a one is a home for one such as me. That human has more value than me as a consort, as a mate. He still seeks the game, even as an old and frail thing that he is. Home indeed. Idiot. I am an idiot. There is no home for me and there never will be. Perhaps there never was.I wipe my eyes, but before I can apologize to him for my tardiness he has placed a hand on my shoulder.How long have I stood here now? Has time stopped? I am weak and pathetic, surely he must realize this by now? Why has he not abandoned me to fend for myself? Leave me to this cold bright hell. Demand from me punishment for the errors of my very existence. Anything I am accustomed to. Remind me of what I am missing. Of a home that is not safe, perhaps then I will regain the clarity of mind to realize that it is the only path for me, of the only place my wretched self belongs. Do not torment me with this kindness that cannot last!“Perhaps this was not the best time to expose you to all these things. Do your eyes hurt?”I shake my head and bumble. My head feels heavy and light at once, and my thoughts wander to the present while laden with my piercing burdens.“Are you off-balance? Ah, was the mead too strong, perhaps?”I look up to him. I don’t know what that word means other than that it was part of the name he used for our drink.“I am poisoned then? Cursed? Afflicted in some way? Will I perish in this frigid place?”“Ah, no. If only it were so, I would have found use of the substance long before.” He chuckles, and pats my shoulder gently. “You will be quite well in a few moments I should imagine. I am still quite bad with alcohol myself, I should have thought better of that. Apologies, my young friend. We will be more cautious in that regard moving forward. I believe I had somewhat forgotten your age and the fact that you have limited exposure to such things.”“You know a lot about me for a Drow who claims to be so long removed from our House. Should I remember you? Why won’t you tell me your direct lineage?”His hand on my shoulder stiffens slightly, and I wince. I look down. “I didn’t mean-”“It’s alright. Let us get you out of the cold and in fresh attire. Come.”“And how did you know to leave the door open like that? I.. There is only one person who ever did that for me. And he is-” I choke on the word, “I-is that a normal thing? Is that something I should remember? But doesn’t that betray the matron’s wishes? I don’t understand. Please tell me what is going on? How I am here? Who are you and your companions? How do you know me?”The words come from me unbidden, they are matched with chokes that result in sobs, followed by questions I want the answers to. I need to know what he is hiding from me. Or at least I want to. He smiles at me. It is in pain, I can see it, even with the lack of expression his eyes could impart I can see there is a pain he endures to smile.As I realize this about him, he moves around me and wraps one arm to engulf me in his embrace while partially absorbing me beneath his cloak. The motion pulls me close as he guides me forward on the road. His tentacle bears its teeth at me and chirps many times, but instead of attacking it moves out of sight into the depths of his cloak only to materialize as a great crystalline staff within his free hand, which he uses to guide our trek onward.I feel a fool.Here I am, embraced by a male Drow who has lived unknowable length above the Surface. Who is warm and yet distant from me. It is an insult to injury that I should need his assistance, and yet in my present state I can not help but wish to disappear as his familiar did within his cloak. To become disappeared beneath it’s dark interior and lost to the world at last. Safe in a solitude and lost among nothing.It takes us both an immeasurably long, and yet insufferably short few minutes to get to our destination in absolute silence - that is, once I get my breathing and worthless emotions under control. Upon our arrival I feel the temporary fuzziness of my mind clear somewhat. That warm tingle in my cheek fades into a cold tingle, and my ears no longer feel the warmth the beverage bestowed, but the chill of the air.“I’m sorry,” I manage as he guides me to a door.He stops with his hand on the knob and looks to me, his tentacle familiar disappearing beneath his cloak once more, no longer being required to act as a staff. His arm loosens it’s hold on me slightly, as he manages to host a smile that curves his lips so minimally I almost mistake it for a grimace.“Ah, no. I’m afraid I should apologize to you.” He pushes some hair out of my face and into the hat, “You’re still but an innocent child.”With his words his smile disappears and he gently nudges me into the room ahead of him. When he follows after me I hear him clear his throat and then speak up in an enthusiastic way. I watch as he walks around me in a flourish of his expansive layered cloak and talk to a human on the other side of the room. It is warm in here, and significantly more dim than outside. Around us on the walls are fabrics and patterns. Various clothes are on stands in numerous states of completion. While the two of them talk in Common I consider his words.Innocent, he said. Me? But I do wrong constantly, don’t I?He is gentle with me. Even more so than even Father was. Father was kind, certainly, but he was firm. He knew that all things had an order. This self-proclaimed non-believer-Thriss talks of things outside of the order we were taught in our studies. Of sciences and cultures beyond what I comprehend. He does so without even intending, it seems. He is displaced, and so he seems to know what it is to be isolated. Rather than let life teach me these harsh lessons, he wishes instead to alleviate them for me. He has no reason to do this for me, and yet he seems to take it as a personal goal. It’s true that his companions were also kindly to me, but they do not act in the way he does. A way that shows he knows the culture, and has moved beyond it, or adapted without it. That he knows it’s sting, and so knows how to treat the pain, and yet the pain lives on in him even still. I wonder how long he’s been away. There is so much about him that makes it difficult to tell. His hair, his eyes, his demeanor and style. He is beyond comprehension. What has he endured? What must he know ?I remove the hat he placed upon my head and observe it. It is of simple make, woven of some slim and semi-rigid material, but unlike the other things in his possession, it is well cared for. It has a ribbon on it and is bright and vibrant. It is in direct opposition to the strictures of Drow attire, and yet it appears as his most precious belonging. A belonging he lent to me for this short journey.They continue to talk, and I see the human look up to me. He is accompanied by a human female and they both exchange gestures and words and then the male goes into a back area, while the woman heads to a wall of fabrics. I approach hi- K’thriss .“Here,” I say with as much strength as I can muster while returning his hat to him. “Th-Thank you.” For everything. Apologies. I didn't mean to-
All is well. Worry not, young friend.
He lifts my chin and I see the smile he had fades, but as I look to him a gentle one rises steadily. He pats my head and then either messes my hair up more, or attempts to fix it. Not sure which, I resist the urge to comb my fingers through it.“If I say things you do not understand, including words or cultural notes, please remind me. I seem to have forgotten the extent of this disparity.” I beg of you, child. Remind me what I have forgotten. I start to nod, but the pleading implication of his hands confuses me momentarily. The confusion must register on my face, because he waves a dismissive hand. Before I can attempt to follow up, the female human talks to him and he responds to her in Common.
She speaks. Is there is a pattern you desire?
Inquiry “I get to pick the pattern?”“If you like. Or we can simply get you a solid hue.”I have never been asked to pick anything other than a study topic before. I am wholly unprepared for such a vast decision. I look to her, then him, and he gestures to the wall she stands at. I take one step, then another, slowly walking over to her, locking eyes. She smiles at me in a way that makes her eyes almost close. She talks to me in words I don’t know, pointing out details on the fabrics. Some are coarse, others very fine, still others are almost like the texture of the k’lerk mur. I look to my elder and he simply holds a patient pose and offers no suggestion, as though he is curious to see what I pick.I look to the spider silks of my personal attire, covered in motifs of spiders that spin their webs and depicting a Queen who manipulates. I do not feel like a spider, but my origins are beneath the surface. I find a brocade of a fabric that is heavy. Deep blues and blacks. It reminds me of the city of my birth, the structure that at once protects and threatens. A red and gold pattern of swirls that mimic the details of Elvenkind catches my eyes, followed by a green and white material of simple stripes. There are options upon options and I feel like it takes me hours to consider each one. In the end I find that the one most appealing to me is a black material that has subtle details in it: forms like chasms deep enough that I could lose myself in the pattern. I consider all the other options before me, and then turn to him.“I like this one.”“Magnificent!” He then turns to her and says words in her tongue. She nods and takes the fabric off the wall. “We will make you a robe of this, but it will take some days to prepare. I believe she will need to measure you - AH! But here is the shopkeep, he has some cloaks for you to select. This will replace my old one for you then. Something more clean.”Suddenly removing the cloak he has lent to me seems less appealing. I hold it in a hand and feel it’s medium texture. It is not so cheap as some other fabrics, surely. And is it truly so filthy as I implied earlier? Am I so ungracious as to not acknowledge that he has offered me his own attire in this time? Or is it better to instead take the offer of the new cloak so he can reclaim his attire? With a stagger, I approach the man. Interestingly, the cloaks he has are all similar to the one I wear, though in a variety of colors and with a heavier weave, perhaps to combat the cold out in the open Surface.There is one in a blue so dark at first I think it to be a faded black, but as I look upon it it seems appealing to me. I look at my hands. Blue in the worst way, and I look at this cloak, blue in a different way. The cloak I wear presently is also blue, though a much brighter hue. I look to him and see that the cloak he wears is a menagerie of blues and purples, of glittering points and red accents, of golden chain and clasp. Underneath there is darkness.I take the deep blue.Perhaps a color can just be a color sometimes?The man bows lightly to me and then says something to my elder counterpart, to which he responds. To me his hands convey Hats. Do you desire? I consider this, and look around. There are no samples on display that I can see.“I don’t want one like yours, but I don’t want to experience this Day Star, either.”He nods, and then talks to the man, showing his hat to him. The man laughs a deep sound, almost a rumble, and then goes into the back. As he does, my elder companion comes over to me. I must look awkward and pathetic. When he begins to help me remove the cloak I go to stop him, and for a moment he holds his hands away from me, but I can’t bear myself to rebuke him in this way after all he has done, and so I look away from him and he pats my shoulders and then unfastens the cloak, unravelling me in this place. Exposed. Public. He holds one hand to me, indicating I hand him my new cloak, and so I finally return my gaze to him. His smile is soft, but wide, with ever the slightest tilt to his head.I almost miss it, but the sound catches my attention, and I see the end of his bag slobbering as it slurps his other cloak out of his other hand. Disgusting.I hand him the new cloak reverently and he deftly engulfs me in it. It’s warmer than I anticipated and much longer than the way I was wearing the previous one. I don’t deserve this attention, but I refuse to allow myself to cry again in this place. I make myself hard at the moment when both the humans emerge and talk to him. I use their presence as the new focus of my attention as he fastens me into my new attire.After some back and forth, I am guided via a slow translation in the way in which to allow the woman to measure me for my future garment. Once that is completed the man fixes my cloak and then, unprovoked, flops something warm on my head and then wraps its appendages around my neck and shoulders. I flail at first, but it’s over as soon as it started and I find that my head warms instantly. My face, neck and shoulders are wrapped in a soft and warm fabric that is a color that matches my cloak.

“It is a, hmm. I will need to think of what words best work for that in Drow, but it is a fabric for protection in the outdoors. A hooded…. scar’f , that is the word. That word exists in Drow yes? I admit, I speak much more frequently in Surface Elvish and I may have forgotten some words in addition to other memories I have lost.”That’s a curious thing to say. “Have you lost many memories?” Ill-omen . “I’m not sure! Potentially two centuries worth, if the information I have gathered is to be trusted. It is unconfirmed, of course, but likely true, as the source is known to be something of a reliable informant. I expect it at this point, I’m afraid.” It makes things easier. “That…” Sucks. He just looks at me for a moment, his hands exclaim either surprise or disappointment, it is difficult to know without his eyes informing of intent. I blush, but hold my ground, against my better judgement. Hopefully he can’t see my blush under this wrapped fabric.He chuckles. Or laughs, more accurately, as it is a sustained sound in his nose or high in his throat. One that is soft and gentle.“I suppose it does. It would perhaps be worse if I knew the importance of what was lost, but I fear it was quite a bit.” He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture, at first like what the Grandmother had used earlier, and after in more of a typical Salk De’rahi gesture. “Regardless, patience offers answers to a great many things when coupled with diligence. I will relearn what was lost and with it a great many things will be resolved, or at least ended. Possibly even dead!”He is very strange. What is that even supposed to mean?He chuckles again. Then tilts his head up a bit and exclaims something in Common and approaches the counter. From his belt he pulls an old coin purse. There is a bit more discussion going on than I would anticipate, and then he turns to me.“The garment that you wear. Are you terribly attached to it, or do you want to rid yourself of it? They would be willing to trade your new garments for the spidersilk, as it is quite rare here. There is no pressure, I should note, as I believe I have adequate coin to cover the-”“No! I can trade. You should not need to pay for my own things. They can have it. It… It is...”
Painful?
“... yes. How do-?” I squint to him and he simply nods in response, then turns back to the humans and shares words with them. He points to something behind the counter and the woman fetches it and hands it to him. I see, it is a new hat. It is not like the scar’f that I was given, and instead is more like a detached hood with long straps that hang down over the ears and with a long point that drapes over his back until he loosely wraps it around his neck.A scholar could do quite a dissertation on this specimen.The transaction concluded he turns to me and gestures to the door. I nod, and as we  head there, the door opens and new figures enter the establishment. I get out of the way to allow entrance to the two new guests, a human woman and a small child. The woman says something to him, but her tone is implicitly familiar to me. Cruel and full of ire. I do not know the words, but at once I feel fear and reciprocal anger. I look to him for the adequate cue as he would be the one who understood her words.Instead of the expected reaction, he clasps his hands in a showy movement that ends in the gesture for Bad emotion , but speaks in a jovial and flamboyant way. His demeanor seems to confuse the woman, but the child seems to smile in response. He waves to the child, who is then jerked away from him by the woman. Behind us I hear the male human shopkeeper say words and the name K’thriss. The woman looks at him, then the pair of us, and seems adequately outmatched. I smile at her, too, and find that she makes a sound with her tongue, then walks away from us without further comment.Interesting.With a gentle tap on my shoulder, he indicates that we should head outside. On the way back, with clearer head and warmer cloak than before, I interrogate him on the structures, buildings, and other aspects of this surface settlement they call the town of Red Larch. He does not balk at my questions, and indeed answers them with a complexity of detail I had not anticipated, though at times does seem to get distracted and allow his focus wander while answering. As we return to the establishment of our origin, the Drawn and Quarter, the white of the snow seems to grow more dull and shift lightly in hue. With a delay of processing, I realize that all things seem to grow dimmer.“AH! Sun set! Come come! You should see this! There are clouds still and I find those make the most curious of sun sets!” He exclaims and rushes ahead of me into the building.Is he old? Or young? Such excitement is…I rush in after him. The room on this floor is much more crowded now, but we run past all of them. He says some words in Common to the Grandmother as we run past her. I try to bow as I pass her, but nearly trip on one of the tails of my scar’f in the attempt and follow him up the stairs.At the top he stops suddenly, lowers in front of a door, knocks twice, then places two fingers on his forehead as he lifts his head near the doorknob.I pant in mixed confusion and exertion. Did we really just run that last distance and up these stairs to sit on the floor in the middle of the hall?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

I am laying on my bed just thinking over the day we’ve had. It’s been nice to be able to finally take a break, but I just can’t stop trying to figure out what is going on. How did we end up with

two

K’thriss’? I wonder if there is some-

“Mielikki! Would it be possible for us to gain access to your window? I believe yours is most accessible unless I were to utilize one of the ones that may be rented by a -”

K’thriss’ voice interrupts my thoughts.

“MIELIKKI DAMN IT K'THRISS!” I scream. Loudly.

“I did knock.”

“

You? Wha-

” I start in a telepathic response to him as I get up and storm over to the door.

With absolutely no flourish, I throw the door open and see him crouching in front of it as if he was looking through my keyhole. The kid is with him and jumps up suddenly, but I can hear him panting. I can

see

him panting. I look to the K’thriss I’m more familiar with, but he doesn’t seem to be panting at all. I just look at him a moment and he smiles broadly up at me.

“I was deep in

thought,”

I finish verbally.

He stands up in glee, “Yes! I imagine so! It is a right state of being to find oneself in! I suppose in hindsight, I could have flown us to the roof, alas, my waelin abbil has not seen a sunset! As it is now a cloudy day, I thought a venture onto the roof might suit him well!”

“Your what?”

“My young friend!”

It is at this moment that I actually realize we’re talking in Elvish. It’s weird how sometimes you just snap into a language and don’t even realize it. I would probably prefer to speak in Common just so that the others could understand, but I suppose no one else is around at the moment. I’ll just have to keep in mind that the kid can understand us like this.

“Won’t that like, burn his little eyes or something?” I say, making a motion with my hands that I hope demonstrates his little eyes bursting out of his head and exploding.

“Oh we won’t look at the sun directly, of course. Your concern is noted though!”

He stands there a moment, fidgeting his hands. Ugh. Does that mean something? Is he begging me, or is he shittalking me? How am I supposed to know? Well, if

anything

he seems really excited about this, and it is

natural

unlike most the things that excite him.

“Uh huh.”

“May we, then?”

I step out of the way and extend my hand to let him past. He steps in and gestures for the kid to follow after him, hustling over to the window as he does.

“Inlul uss, this way,” he says before turning to face the window and beging to open it.

The kid is frozen at the threshold, following K’thriss with his eyes, then looks to me uncertain. He has a new cloak and a hooded scarf. Honestly, he looks like...

a decade

younger like this and it’s not a bad look. He’s almost cute.

Almost

.

“Go, or whatever,” I say to him and point to K’thriss, who is already up and out the window. “Before my whole room turns to ice.”

That seems to get him to wake up and he bolts after K’thriss, who extends a hand and helps him up and out of the window.

Of course now that he said sunset I kinda want to see too. I mean, maybe I should keep an eye on K’thriss, anyway. After all, he

probably

hit his head on the ice this morning, right? Or ate the weird mushroom he found. Or is freaking this kid out somehow. What I’m saying is I have plenty of good reasons and as the new Decisionist it's well within my power to do so. I’m going out there, too. Not just because watching the sunset is something I enjoy. Even though it absolutely is also one of my favorite things. And I’m certainly not letting a couple of weird Drow get in the way of the things I enjoy. No way in nine hells is that going to happen. Plus, I guess it’s sort of my roof and I should probably make sure they don't fall off of it or break it or something? I guess?

I pop on out after them and prop open the window with a small rock I keep literally for this purpose, and then stand up to look around. You can tell I’ve been out here already because this is the only part of the roof that has no snow on it. This is good for the two of them because it means they probably won’t slip, but it’s also maybe a little embarrassing because you can tell where I paced in the snow to make it melt the way it did. Whatever, this is my room, my roof. I’m not putting

holes

in it, and keeping the snow off probably prevents leaks so I’m sure that’s good for Propha, too. Or at least I hope so.

Goddesses

, I hope so.

As I observe this, I realize K’thriss is guiding him all the way to the very highest peak of the roof. As they get there, the sky starts it’s shift exposing deep yellows and oranges taking over the deep rich greys and blues and I find myself pulled away by the sight of it. The clouds are vibrant and full in the moment right before the deep shocks of crimson can seep into them. The sun is perfectly hidden by the clouds and as it emerges the blood seeps into the wool, and the clouds line with red. The sign of a good hunt.

I am tempted to turn into a wolf and howl, but shake my head and look back to them. K’thriss is facing in my general direction, though based on his expression I think that he’s looking at the kid. The kid is holding a hand out in front of him, maybe it’s blocking the sun? But the more amazing thing is that he seems… awestruck. Like he is actually really impressed by what he is seeing. I head up to get closer to them, and when I see his expression I know I'm right. I really

am

right. His eyes are wide, though his pupils are also practically nonexistent as he looks directly into the fading light.

“How far does it go?” the kid asks.

“How far does

what

go?” I look out to the horizon, not sure what he’s looking at.

“The sky.” K’thriss answers me, then answers the kid, “Endlessly. There are many theories about it, of course. That the world is a disc or a sphere or a droplet in the Astral sea, but regardless, the expanse of the sky and sun from the perspective of the har'oloth is simply endlessly. There is no cavern, no wall. When

they

say har’zian, this is what they think of. Not some limited precipice.”

I find myself staring at K’thriss. I don’t know what some of the words he’s saying are or what they mean, but I can tell his intention behind them. Frankly, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard him speak in such a poetic tone. His body is facing me, but his chin is tucked down as though he is watching the kid. His smile is almost… muted? As if he’s almost as astounded as the kid. Is he reliving it

though

the kid? No way. He’s just some crazy old Drow. What could the sky mean to someone who can't even look at it? Someone who is from a culture where this majestic aerial landscape is the thing I was always taught that they despise? Can a Drow, a creature of the darkness, of the depths, really even appreciate the clouds, sun and sky the way we can? Can he even see all the colors that those of us on the surface can? Darkvision is greys for us, is it different for them? Do they see something different underground than I do? How different…

are

we?

I shake my head, realizing how absurd this all is. This line of thinking doesn’t solve the more important problem at hand. It gets us no closer to getting this kid to be back wherever he’s supposed to be.

“You’re talking nonsense. And making up words again. You sure you didn’t hit your head this morning?” I deflect. It seemed like the only actionable response.

The K'Thriss I know turns away from me to face the sunset, his normal smile returning to his face. He does

not

have his hand up to block the sun or hide from the light. He just looks over to it for a few moments, thinking.

I guess not having his old eyes is… a good thing? Does he think it’s a good thing? Does he actually watch the sunset sometimes? Man, I really don’t know much about him do I? We all just take for face value that he’s weird and he just runs amok all over the place, doesn’t he?

“Ah no, I fear that my head is no better or worse than usual. Perhaps I used Drow words? I don’t honestly recall.”

“Sure, whatever.”

I don't know to say that. The way he's looking to Red Larch is almost fond. Do I say something about that? It would be the first time ever. What could he possibly be thinking about right now anyway? Do I even know anything about who this person I've been working with two years

actually

is?

Trying to find a distraction from these heavy questions, I look to the kid again. If he’s moved at all, I can't tell. He could be a statue now and I wouldn’t know the difference. I look in the direction he faces, and it really is gorgeous. Nature has reminded the people in this village that it can smother us in a day. That its snow and ice, its clouds and cold will always overpower us. Silently, I make a prayer to the Goddesses, thanking them for their life and will, for the continuation of the circle of life around us, for their grace and their mercy, for their power and their strength.

The sky grows darker, and the kid lowers his hand just a bit, so I return my gaze to him. It’s still bright enough that he’s squinting again, but he’s still attempting to look out to the sky with his eyes.

“Don’t blind yourself, kid.”

He jumps and nearly slips at my words. I guess we’ve been silent for a while at this point… Did he forget I was here? He must have been looking at the clouds

really

intensely for that to happen. Which… I might be kinda happy to think was the case?

Realizing I have addressed him, he turns to me quickly, “Is that truly possible?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure that it’s possible to blind yourself if you stare at the sun and you

aren’t

from the Underdark, so I think it’s probably extra true for you, yeah.”

He turns quickly to K’thriss who nods, “It is true! All things, sentient or not, find ways to kill or maim such poor beings as those of fleshy construction, such as we!”

“Alright, Drow- uh… k…

you

- K'Thriss, maybe tone down the esoteric crazytalk for a minute, the kid hasn’t even been here a day, yet.”

“True, though I don’t know if that has rightly been cause for -”

“Well it is

now.

Okay?”

“Certainly! It has been a long day after all, perhaps we should turn in to warm up and prepare for dinner?”

“That sounds like a

great

idea.”

I might have spoken with a bit too much gusto, but there's not much I can do about that now. The kid looks to K’thriss again, and makes a quick hand gesture while saying, “You have said that Drow titles are neantak. So for your companions…”

“Ah yes,” K’thriss looks to me, “I should assume names are sufficient?”

“I’m

sorry

. Was there even a question in that? Names are sufficient for

what?”

“Ah, yes, I don’t believe that there are any titles that are necessary in reference to each of us, unless you prefer being called Decisionist instead of Walnut?”

A shudder runs through me. “

NO.

Walnut is

just

fine

. Than. K. You.”

K’thriss looks to his mini-self, “ah, yes, as I suspected, names are sufficient. I know Rosie often goes by both Grandmother and her name, but I think for Donnar, Mielikki and myself you are-”

“Walnut. He should call me

Walnut

.”

“Yes, as I said.” *

“N.. no.. K’thriss. No. You. Nevermind.” I turn on my heel and head down the slope of the roof. He’s not wrong, but he’s also

so

wrong and I just don’t even want to get into that with this kid. “Just come up with a name that found little buddy of yours, and we’ll be all-good, because K’thriss and Thriss is just

not

a big enough difference.”

“Found?” The kid calls after.

K’thriss replies, “Actually that would work! We shall propose it to the group! Unless you prefer kid’thr-”

I’m inside my room and can’t hear the end of the conversation. I shout up to them, “Make sure you close my window when you’re done!” then head downstairs.

I know initially I said I was worried about them falling or breaking the roof, but I have a lot of mixed feelings now and I just can’t be near them any more or my head might explode. Besides, it’s about to get dark. They’re from the

Under

dark, so they should be fine walking down the roof, anyway. I hope. Goddesses I hope so.

As I’m about to consider turning back to check on them, the warmth of the tavern finally hits me. It’s more comforting than I realized I wanted it to be, but it is nice as I stand near the fire warming my bones. After a moment I spot Rosie. She seems to look at me right as I spot her, so she must have seen me come down.

She’s running a well-planned pattern into the floor as she goes from table to table helping the surprising amount of customers. By help, I mean of course that she is telling stories and lifting the mood. When she finishes her current story, I lift my chin to her and she waves me over. I don’t really feel like being in the center of all that attention, so I just gesture a subtle** ‘no’ at her.

With a gentle pat on the arm of the man next to her, she excuses herself and heads over to me, nodding and smiling at the different groups as she does.

“Well, did you see what the boys were up to? I just saw the pair of them tear though here and right up the stairs before I heard you yelling. Everything all good, dear?”

“Oh, that. Yeah K’thriss wanted to show the kid a sunset, or something.”

Even as the words come out of my mouth I can taste how weird they are. Of all people to show a sunset to… to

anybody

it’s K’thriss? Saying it has that tart sensation where your tongue sticks to the top of your mouth. Gross.

“Well now isn't that just something else! A Drow showing a Drow a sunset? That’s a story to tell. How did the little one take it?”

“I… I actually think he enjoyed it.” I can feel my face crunch as the words drop slowly from my mouth.

If words had substance, I think they’d make the sound of jars of ink falling and spilling onto the floor and rolling around. Bad taste, bad sound. I don’t like it. It’s not the normal way of things. It’s not the Natural Order. That must be it! It’s not

natural

for Drow to be on the surface, especially not look at the

sunset

. That’s probably why I feel so weird about the whole thing.

Rosie’s jovial excitement pulls me back to reality, “No kidding! I imagine he’s never seen anything like that before. Must have been quite the sight!”

All I manage is a short affirmative sound, but there is a pause in the conversation as I mull over that, then I shake my head and bring my gaze back from the void and look at Rosie. As

wrong

as it is for them to look at and

enjoy

a sunset, it is kinda nice to know that even though they

are

from underground that we can still share this appreciation for such an important part of living under the sun. Ugh, but now that I’m thinking about it I feel all those other thoughts are flooding back to me and I’m not feeling it. Nope, it’s just not okay. Abort, abort.

“Anyway, who cares about those weirdos, anyway? Do you need any help down here? They’re probably still in my room and I would just rather

NOT

.”

“Lets see,” she says and takes a long slow look around the room. “I mean everyone seems to have eaten who was looking to get food. Now everyone is just getting the winter spirits up, and I don’t mean their moods, if you get my drift. I’m pegging my luck on that one over there.”

“

Grandmother

! Not what I was asking!”

“Yeah, but look at him. Good butt. Even you have to appreciate that, no? Ah well, no skin off my back.” She pats my hand. “What do you think, time to make the group some dinner?”

“I

guess???

” I shrug at her in exasperation.

I can’t think about food after hearing about

that

. Seriously Rosie?!

She snorts and cackles a little as she walks away from me. I stand stiffly in place and watch as she passes by the guy in question and says a few words with him before winking and heading off into the kitchen. I can just barely hear Propha and her start a conversation before the door gently shuts behind her.

Now what? I just escaped Enigmatic and Enigmini, what next, talk to

Donaar?

I think I’ll take my chances out here.

With a quick look around, I see that maybe the fire could stand to have a few more logs put into it, and do that with a little boost of Produce Flame just to make sure it catches fast enough. Then I just look for busy work: refilling lanterns, replacing the candles in the wall sconces, yelling at people to clean up after themselves when they leave trash on the tables. Unfortunately, there's only so much one can do around here in a day, and Acquisitions Incorporated jobs are always slow to come in the winter. On one hand, I guess that makes it a good time for this little mystery to be dropped in our lap, but on the other hand we're not really in a place to get much in terms of information. I can't requisition information from Certainty anymore, since I'm not a Documancer, and I have no faith in Donaar's*** ability to even ask for anything. Does it fall under my roll as Decisionist if I

decide

to request information without his assistance? I guess he never would have thought of that so maybe I can try and see what happens? I don't want to upset Omin, but maybe this could prove that I'm better served as Documancer. Unless he just gives us our old jobs back… but that means Donaar goes back to Decisionist and... Ugh. What a thicket.

In a few minutes I can hear a creaking coming from the stairs and look up from my busy work and my thoughts. Leading the kid into the common room is K'Thriss, smiling and clasping his hands the way he does when he thinks something interesting is happening. At least I recognize

this

gesture. But that's only because it's usually followed by something difficult, ridiculous, or involving his creepy gods. Great.

“You look happy. What did you do? Is my window closed? You didn't tentacle up my room, did you?” I ask him in Common just so I don't need to deal with the kid's input or absurd reactions.

“Oh no no. It's just that this is all very interesting. A vestige of my younger self has appeared here - out of time as we perceive it - and so I have the opportunity to witness his experience and reactions through an exterior and somewhat more objective lense. It's

fascinating

. Imagine being able to watch yourself experience your current reality without having undergone the time and knowledge it took to get you there. The experiences that would have prepared you for it.”

Ugh. Of course. This is incredibly his shit.

I nod with a “It's interesting, all right, but what are we going to do about it? He can't just

stay

here. Don't we need to put him back where he belongs in order for him to like… become you, or whatever?”

He raises his steepled hands to his mouth and tilts his head down into them just a bit. The kid walks up a little closer to him, but stays just a bit behind him, looking at K'Thriss’ posture. He fidgets a moment, and adjusts his own stance to match, but remains silent.

“I'm not entirely sure time, or at least the branching timelines of

Causality

, are linear**** in that way. If he truly is connected to this instance of me…” he spreads his hands apart, but continues looking down, “but I mean, that's not certain. Maybe I can't see his connection to me because his

existence

is that connection.”

There's a pause as he shakes his head thinking about it, then smiles and looks up.

“I don't get it, K'Thriss.”

“Neither do I! Isn't that wonderful?!”

Oh boy. We're in it deep if that's the reaction we're going to be getting from him. What does he even mean ‘linear time’? Time is time. Furthermore, we don't need to be wasting any of it babysitting a useless child version of him all winter. Or

after

winter, for that matter?

“Well then what's your game plan? You just going to have him follow you around everywhere? Is he going to be joining us on missions now? This isn't feasible. You need to fix it. And fix it before our next job comes in.”

His smile shifts. It becomes slightly more… something. Different. I feel like I’ve seen this expression from him before, but I can’t remember where, or if it was directed at me or not. It’s almost icy, and a stabbing chill runs down my back. I double down in my stance to show him this is serious. And it is, we legitimately can’t keep this kid here.

“Is that your decision?” he asks with a smooth tone. Oddly out of place after his excitement a second ago. It just makes me even more uneasy, and the hairs on my neck bristle like a prey animal. This is weird, even for him. I feel the sweat welling up, but refuse to let him see it. He wants a decision, fine, I’ll give him one.

“Yes. Fine, it's my

decision

. Is that what you want to hear? Just figure it out.”

I wave my hands around for a bit to emphasise the last bit.

He smiles broadly and bows his head slightly, then continues walking past me. The second he moves his… young buddy jolts and follows after him. His hood is still up, so I can just barely see his bright eyes as he looks at me perplexingly during his jot past me, then nods. He scurries up behind K’thriss and just follows like the cloak on his back.

What the hell, even. That was a really sharp transition of behavior from K’thriss there. I don’t think I’ve ever before seen him get cold like that to me. Is this just because this kid is here? Did something happen? That was almost like that really sharp reaction the kid had earlier, but instead of it being from panic to calm cool, it was excitement to… anger? Did I just do a something bad on accident? And what does K'Thriss think he going to do with a child, anyway!? He's not exactly what I'd consider parent material. Pets maybe. Weird summoned creatures and dead lizards, certainly. Things that can care and feed  themselves, absolutely. But this? This is just too weird. Besides, like… What if he's wrong? If Thriss doesn't get back home and K'Thriss never happens… does that mean we did all that to free Maelith for nothing? I can't allow that to happen. I need

something

good to have come from all of that. But then, I don't really know how any of this works. What if he doesn't go back and the Mouth God never captures her in the first place?

This… is hurting my head, I need to stop thinking.

I briskly walk into the kitchen to see what Rosie is up to.

“Please tell me you need help in here, I can't handle him. Them. Both of him. Ugh.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

While K’thriss and Kid’thriss went on their little shopping spree, I had some alone time for the first time all day. Walnut had taken the afternoon to do what she does best: Mope. As far as I am concerned, this was the perfect outcome, because it meant I could take my time going around the inn before customers arrived and rearrange my mini hoards everywhere. I mean, the only way to be totally sure that Walnut has no clue what I have hidden all over the place is to move it all around when she isn’t paying attention. Now, even if she does investigate the places we had searched for K’thriss’ dad-knife earlier - places where my stashes

had

been - she won't be able to find anything. It's so smart, no wonder I thought to do it. Man I'm great at this stuff. Plus, it’s good to mix things up every now and again. You never know who is snooping about, or if Onyx decides things I hide are shiny, or whatever it is that cats do all day.

It didn’t take me too long to get everything moved around in the tavern area, so then I went back upstairs and sorted everything out up there. I was in the process of moving around the stashes in K’thriss’ room when I thought I heard someone running up the stairs towards his room. Not that I would ever panic, but I dove under his bed because I didn’t want him to realize I was in his room, and that he might want his room back - I mean, to train him on preparedness. You never know when a bad guy is going to leap out and attack you in your room. Yeah, that’s it.

Unfortunately I couldn’t execute my little test because the footsteps stopped early, and then Walnut burst out of her room screaming for no reason. Figuring it was a bust, I just got up from under the bed and got back to work because, I mean,

obviously

I have no reason to hide from K’thriss, so I DEFINITELY wasn’t doing that. I was just… looking for the perfect place to hide my next stash. Yeah! I mean, it'd be totally dumb to have hid anyway, all I would have to say was that I had stuff to do in here. He’s never cared when I barged into his room before. It's practically my room anyway.

Oh, I should probably move the stash that’s on him, too! That's a great idea. I don't know if Walnut knows about that one either, but I mean whatever. It's my gold, I'll move it how I want to. I’ll have to remember to do that when I see him in a bit.

Anyway, they stopped at Walnut’s door and then I guess went onto her roof, so I was able to finish what I was working on before his room got too dark. His room is

always

just a little too dark to begin with, so when the sun sets it’s just impossible in here. K'Thriss seriously needs to do something about this spooky window cover he's got. For one, it's not hung up very well. Second, it's not even fully covering the window. Three*, it's too dark in here anyways and he should just take the whole thing down. Also, K’thriss really needs to learn how to clean up his candle wax and also-also doesn't he realize how inconvenient it is for me personally that his room is as messy and dark as this? How am I supposed to see in here? Frankly, this is a problem for me, and as my best buddy he should really know better than to make things like this hard for me. We’re going to have a real good talk about that when I see him in a few minutes.

After I finish in his room, I am able to move things about in the Meeting Room, my room, and briefly consider hiding something in Rosie’s room. I am scared that she might find it or think that it was hers though, since apparently finding gems in your dinner is something that can happen to her, and I feel like it means something and you know, I’ll just keep these in my own room. Yeah. That’s the best idea. See? I can be a

great

Decisionist, the

best

in fact. Omin must be a dumb idiot to think otherwise. Can’t wait until he resolves this mess. Maybe I’ll write to him again later reminding him.

Boy, look at all this planning I’m doing. Just even more good marks in decision-making. I  need a break after all this thinking.

I pat the loose wall-board one more time, and then head downstairs looking for a meal. I get downstairs just in time to hear the end of a conversation between Walnut and K’thriss. Right after she makes a scrunched little squishy pig face and then bursts into the Kitchen asking Rosie if she needs help. I guess that means dinner isn’t done, but it also means I don’t have to deal with Walnut for a little while longer. Good, one less thing to worry about. She hadn’t left me alone for almost an

hour

after lunch because of the whole drawing in my Documancy book. ‘It’s for work, not art’ ‘The SCRTRN reads that you know!’ ‘ It’s expensive paper and deserves better’ blah blah blah. It’s just

paper

. Besides, Omin should be

glad

that he gets to see a Donaar Original like that. Preserved forever in his stupid fancy-book. Not everyone can get such an honor. Autographs, always, but a Prince Donaar original art piece? He’d be

crazy

to not see the value in that. Walnut is just a loser who can’t appreciate a good value. Same as this Secretarian or whatever. I bet they don’t even realize what a gift I am to them and this stupid company. Really. They’re

so

lucky that I haven’t asked for a raise, yet. We get paid, right? How does this work again?

I walk to the end of the stairs and I can tell that all the people here look like they are done eating. Auspicia is coming out of the kitchen to start wiping the bar and start tending that for the people who are still around. I walk up to her and say hi, hoping to get a scent for what is cooking but I can't tell over the smell of the bar. I just get a drink and leave her be.

When I turn around, I see K’thriss and his mini-me standing near the fireplace having a conversation by themselves. I know K’thriss usually likes to sit in the dark corners, so it’s interesting seeing him near the fire. I guess everyone needs a change of scenery sometimes. I head over, using the most direct path I can find. A few people seem bothered by my tail as I walk past them, but I mean, I live here, they don’t, so they can deal with it, plus, Jinaari Prince here. It’s like a blessing from a king or something.

When I get close enough to them I realize that I don’t hear either of them saying any words. The kid

is

making some hand gestures at him, though. I guess that’s important, since apparently they have hand speaking. I kinda wish I knew hand speaking. That’d be pretty handy - HAH! Handy, that’s a good one. Man I wish I’d said that out loud.

I wonder what it would take to learn hand speaking. I wonder if it’s a lot of work to have to learn. I mean, if I really need to talk to K’thriss I can just point to my head and he can just do that mind-talking thing instead. Yeah, nevermind that doesn’t sound as fun anymore. Brain talking is way cooler and I mean, look at how many shapes his weird little elf hands are making, did he just touch his ear? Was that a word, or was that because it was itchy? Well, either way that settles it, no stupid hand talking for me. I didn’t really want to learn it anyway. Besides, I have more important things to do with my time.

Once I get close enough, Big’thriss greets me with a broad smile and his hands clap together near his face. “Ah, greetings Donaar. How has your day been?”

“It’s fine and whatever. Hey can you move your arms for a second?”

“Certainly! What fo- Oh!”

He makes a little sound as I start rummaging on his person and shift my coins around on his small squishy body. The kid says a few words to him then, in an almost sharp tone, I think that is a tone you’d call sharp, anyway, it sounded kinda mean. As they have a little conversation I finish moving things about and checking the amounts. Everything gets put into a new place, then I stand back up to my full height.

“Alright, I’m all done.”

“Wonderful! Are your accounts settled?”

“Yeah something like that. What was his problem,” I say pointing at the kid.

“Ah, he was shocked that I let you into my uh… garment space? Hmm, I think that is the word he used, but yes, he was shocked that you just dove in before I finished in my reply.”

“Well, he doesn't know how things are around here, that’s fine, he’ll get used to it.”

I realize that Kid’thriss has new digs and they are way nicer than K’thriss’.

“Why didn’t

you

get new clothes while you were there?”

“Oh I don’t need anything, what I have serves me just fine. My new hat was sufficient, but it’s safe in my room at the moment.”

“Did he just get a new cloak, because I mean I guess that’s cool, but I can still see his dumb bad spider clothes under the bottom of it.”

“Oh no, his clothes will be tailored. I think it will be done in a few days.”

“Wait a minute, you’re getting him

custom tailored

clothes? Why couldn't you just get him some cheap shirt and pants like you have?”

He is silent a half second as he smiles at me, then looks to his clothes again. “Well, they were nice when I purchased them, but... I suppose it has been a long while.” He looks back up to me, “No, I think this is better. I am fine with what I have, but he is not used to the materials of the surface. Best to get him something custom. Yes. That is all.”

“I mean, as long as it’s your money, that’s cool. I got my own and it’s not going to any fancy clothes for a little mammal-kid.”

“Oh no, don’t fret that, friend, it’s all taken care of! Not a single copper shall be required!”

“Yeah, not a single copper

Dragonborn

- get it! I mean me! Don’t look at me like that, it was a good one!”

We talk about pretty unimportant stuff, like the weather, and he tries to ramble about the sunset for a bit, but then trails off after Walnut emerges from the kitchen with Rosie. By then we’ve moved away from the fireplace and Kid’thriss has taken off his little scarf, showing off his messy white hair. K’thriss looks at it for a second, but when Ligotti starts chirping at Kid’Thriss, K’thriss starts fussing with it and combining it with his fingers.

Like any sane person, Kid’thriss looks completely scandalized.

If he’d made any kinda fuss I might have stepped in to help, but he just lets K’thriss mess with his hair and fix his cloak It’s a lot like when Rosie is talking to Strix and pulling bugs out of her hair and stuff like that.

Once he finishes, we start to head over to where the table is being set up. I lean over and whisper to him, “Oh yeah, it sounded like you and Walnut were arguing. What was that about? I mean,

I get it

, I’m just curious.”

He pauses for a second as I keep walking. I don’t hear him follow and I realize how silent he got. Like so silent I almost think he’s vanished, but when I stop and face him I see that he’s just frowning in her direction. It kinda looks like he’s doing a Walnut impression, actually.

“I… I don’t... know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? When people have an argument it’s usually because of

something

. Was she just being annoying? I bet she was being annoying.”

“Perhaps…” is his answer.

I don’t think he agrees with me, but even though I think he is going to say something else, he doesn't. After waiting long enough, I just shrug and keep moving. Maybe he just realized I was right.

By the time I get to the table, it’s already set up. I take a seat next to Rosie, immediately trying to stake my claim on the plates that have the food on them.

“What we got here?”

As I reach for the plate, I suddenly feel a hard crack on the back of my hand as Rosie slaps me with a quick flick of her staff. It smarts, and I pull back and rub my hand.

“What? Why? Rosie! I’m hungry!”

“Guests first, you should know that,” she says as she puts the fork down next to my plate and then starts cutting up the meat and the potatoes she has in front of her.

“What!? I’m a prince! I should go first -

always

.”

“Not today,” she says and starts dividing the food up onto plates. I try to cover my salivating, but it’s not working very well. I'm hungry and this is just cruel. I'm a growing boy! I need that good grub. And I need it before anyone else!

On three of the plates she puts a lot of mushrooms, on another she puts just a couple, and on the last she puts none. Walnut sits across from me, looking, you know, as she usually does. Kthriss sits at the end of the table opposite Rosie, and Kid’thriss stands awkwardly for a while until he finally sits next to me. Thinking about it, it’s actually kind of weird that he sits there, since there is more room on Walnut’s side, but I mean, I’m not complaining, that means when him and K’thriss don’t finish their meals I have prime real estate on getting dibs on their leftovers.

“Seeing as we all had a very active day today, I made us something extra special, so I want you all to eat up. Especially you, K’thriss. Being out in the cold for that many hours is going to get you sick. I know they aren’t Underdark mushrooms, but I did make a wonderful mushroom au jus for you and Thriss to have with your meals. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Oh I won’t,” I reply as she finally starts handing out the plates. Mine is the one with no mushrooms, thank Vars.

Man I miss Cappy. Hope he’s doing alright. What am I saying, of course he is! He learned all the best from his buddy - me! I bet that whole cave is covered in little Cappies now. I bet it looks awesome. Maybe we could go visit sometime. Is it winter in the Underdark?

As I'm thinking about how great Cappy must be doing, I notice Walnut just shakes her head at me. She doesn’t say anything in response to me, but I know she's thinking it. Good. Fine. I don’t need whatever argument she got into with my boyee spilling into food-time. I make quick work of food and am well into my seconds as Rosie prods K’thriss for what him and Kid’thriss were doing all afternoon, about the town, I guess they watched a sunset, stuff like that. Just Grandma-talk things.

While we eat I can see that Walnut is looking at her food a lot and not saying much. Even when Rosie asks her about her own day she’s pretty quiet. She’s actually being even more dismissive than usual - even when Rosie asks her about the sunset. I guess they all watched it together, her and the K’thrisses?

“You all watching sunsets without me? The heck! I would have watched that.”

K’thriss and Walnut both look up to me, but K’thriss is the first to reply.

“Ah, sorry Donaar, I didn’t even think of it. I simply wanted to get to the roof as fast as possible so Muth’riss would be able to witness it.”

“I mean, I don’t really

care,

it just would have been nice to be invited, is all. You know?”

“I’m sorry,

Muth

’riss?” Walnut asks. She looks a little nervous the second after she asks it, though, since K’thriss’ smile falls a little and he puts down his fork to look at his food. It’s almost time for me to snatch my prey. I can sense it.

Rosie, not missing a beat, climbs up on the table and starts cutting K’thriss food for him, which make his eyebrows dart upwards. “You’re not done yet!”

Drats. I’ll have to wait a bit longer, then.

As she walks back across the table to her own seat, she happily adds in, “But that’s very cute, K’thriss, you made a little nickname for him? Does it mean anything?”

He looks back up to her, eyebrows still

way

up on his head, but fumbles to reply, “ah… yes, oh, Muth’riss. Yes.

Muth

means

found

. It seemed an apt naming convention. It was actually thanks to Walnut that we came up with it. I’m - err -

we’re

in like minded agreement that it can be used.”

“Ahh man! But I’ve been using

Kid

’thriss! You can’t just change it like that!”

Rosie pats my hand and gives me another big potato, “Now now, dear, I’m sure there is a good reason. Plus, I think I like it!”

She settles back down into her seat and talks to Kid - sorry -

Mooth

’thriss** in Elvish or whatever. This is lame. I eat the potato in one chomp just to prove I can do it and so that I can excuse my grumbling for chewing sounds every time Walnut looks over to me shaking her head.

I’m extra grumbly too because K’thriss started eating again. There goes my thirds! Even the Mooth’thriss is eating all of his food, it seems. I mean at least I expect that from him, he ate all his soup at lunch today, but this sucks. Rosie how could you

betray

me like this! I'll never forgive you. This is the worst slight you've ever done!

Something Mooth’thriss says to Rosie causes K’thriss to snort, and he looks up to Rosie to say something but his jaw just stays open and another chuckle comes out. I watch Mooth’thriss look completely confused by that reaction. Same here kid, I’m missing out on the whole thing, imagine what

that’s

like. Bet you can't.

Rosie leans back chair and takes a sip of her drink, looking over to K'Thriss like she's waiting for something good. Immediately after, K’thriss leans over and puts a hand on Mooth’thriss’ shoulder, talking to him directly.

“How could

anyone

think this was an insect?” Walnut asks Rosie in a language I can actually understand.

She shrugs and she puts her mug down, showing off a big smile, “I mean the animals that live in the Underdark are very different than up here. I don’t even

know

what we didn’t get to see while we were down there, but I’m betting a lot of the things they eat must be creepy crawlies or worms of the giant variety.”

I’m smart, so I put it together, “Oh, he thought the meat was a bug?”

Walnut looks at me and sincerely and seriously says, “No. He thought the

potato

was.”

Well. I got nothing to say to that. That,

is

weird. Don’t they have potatoes underground? I mean potatoes

grow

underground. I imagine they’d grow even better down there than up here, right? Do potatoes need the sun? Hmm, I guess I never thought about that. How

do

potatoes grow?

I look over to K’thriss as I see him pull out a crumpled piece of paper from his bag and a piece of charcoal and sketches something as he talks to Mooth’thriss. Looks like he must be describing where the dinner came from? Maelis, he’s even better an drawist than the kid is! He looks like he’s not just drawing the potato, but the whole plant from like… seed to plant, and then drawing the whole animal and the muscle where the meat came from.

“That is disgusting, look how much detail he’s putting into that!” I say as I point to the drawing, calling Walnut and Rosie’s attention to it.

“What.” Walnut is not impressed, “I mean, it’s accurate. At least.”

“Oh yes, I figured this would be the best way to illustrate it to him, since the specifics of the fauna and flora of the surface may be confusing for him in a general sense. I’ve already needed to explain weather and snow to him, so I thought an image might be more helpful this time,” K’thriss says, as he labels the last piece and hands it to Mooth’thriss who

immediately

starts to study it.

“Uh huh,” I respond. “Hey, are you going to finish that?” I ask, pointing to his plate.

“Yes he is, right K’thriss?” answers Rosie.

K’thriss was

literally

about to pass it to me, Rosie, why are you making me starve like this! I’m a big boy! I need big boy foods! I'm so hungry!!

“I... suppose I could eat a little bit more, actually. Though not much more Rosie, lest you desire it to,” he pauses to make a distressed face and clench his hand and rubs it around his stomach, “come back up having not fulfilled its intended purpose?”

“No, no, we can’t be having that, now. I just want to make sure you eat enough. You’re both just so very skinny. A grandmother is wont to worry from time to time, I’m sure you understand?”

K’thriss sniggers, then replies, “No, but I can understand that it’s a thing that is sometimes performed.”

Walnut and I both roll our eyes. Are old people always so weird?

Mooth’thriss takes this pause in conversation to show the paper back to K’thriss and, I don’t know, I guess he’s asking him a question. K’thriss replies and then tries to demonstrate something with his hands. I’m watching K’thriss’ food, which means I’m looking over Mooth’thriss’ head the whole time and. Man, something about this is making me… sad?

As I’m watching them, I realize just how close the kid is sitting to him, like, I don’t even know how they were eating, they have almost no room between them. It’s basically like I have this whole side of the table to myself. I don’t understand what they’re saying, obviously, but the way K’thriss keeps like… I don’t know, it’s giving me a weird feeling. Like. Man, it just makes me really miss home. Is that weird?

I can’t put my finger on it, but something about the way he’s talking or the way he’s giving the little buddy all his attention right now just makes me think of how I would play or spend time with Nase or my father. And now that I think about it, it makes me think about Chronaar, too. I mean she’s more active than Mooth’thriss, but he follows K’thriss around kinda like a toddler would. Is that weird? This feels weird. I don't know. Maybe it’s just because they’re the only ones like them here and they can speak the same language, or something like that. That’s got to be it. I’m probably reading into it too much.

And besides, it’s not like I can go home or anything right now, that’s not exactly on the board at the moment. I need to play my pieces right to figure that whole ordeal out, but.. I mean At least I can probably see Chronaar again sometime soon.

Maybe I can draw some pictures to send her...

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dinner went by with little additional difficulty, though I found that there was still an ache lingering in my chest from earlier. I had first noticed it when standing with Muth’riss by the fire, but knew it had not been present before my brusque interaction with Meilikki. Now, after conversation and meal, it somehow still remained. This is an experience I can link to the somewhat recent event of Maelith being drawn from me, though it’s… not identical. There is something different this time that I cannot place.That time, of course, the reason was clear, it was obvious what caused the change in connectivity. In this instance I could not find the instantiating episode. It was simply a feeling I remembered and fruitlessly continued to assess.The meal concluded with Donaar inhaling the remnants of my and Muth’riss’ meals. As usual, he left the table and headed upstairs while the rest of us lingered behind. Walnut stood to assist Rosie in clearing the table as I continued to answer Muth’riss’ questions about the things he’d encountered and experienced during the day.Seeing an opportunity approaching a crux, and remembering a once-held promise to always tell her sooner, I turn my attention away from Muth’riss, and look up to Walnut.“M… Meilikki, if I could have… but a moment?” My words are quieter than intended, tentative beyond expectation. At some point my hand must have raised, because it now lingers in the air, as if beckoning her to stay.Her back is already turned to me, but her gait freezes as she exhales a deep slow breath.“Can it wait?”I was afraid of this. “Yes, of course. My apolo-”Rosie steps up to her and turns around so as I may see her face. She wears a broad smile, “Oh it’s no matter, Walnut. I can take these from you. Why don’t you sit here a moment and relax with K’thriss. I’m sure the two of you could help little Muth’riss learn a lot together, don’t you think?”The inflection in her voice leads me to believe she knows more about the situation than even I do. That she knows what transpired between the two of us earlier and somehow knows what my intention must be, or has some intention of her own that I have yet to uncover. I am unsure which. I can’t possibly imagine Walnut telling her any details of the interaction, as Walnut often is reserved with personal matters, and yet, I can conclude just the same that Rosie already knows the situation. In this moment, I am not certain if I should be thankful, or concerned for the debt I must owe for her intervention.“Grandmother…” Walnut lets out a long-suffering sigh then looks up to the ceiling before acquiescing and passing the dishes she's holding down to Rosie. Rosie makes it seem effortless, balancing the entire meal’s serving-ware in her arms as she returns to the kitchen with aplomb.With a languid and deliberate motion, Walnut turns on her ankle to face me, then crosses her arms.“What do you want?”“Might I request that we speak in Elvish? I want him to… understand this, if I may.”“That depends on what this is, Drow’b.”“Right, of course. Yes.” I smile at her, attempting calmness but finding that,even entwined, my hands will not cease fidgeting. I can feel not only her eyes on me now, but his also. “I… simply wished to state a matter of fact.”“That’s not exactly making me feel any better, drow . What do you want. What fact could you possibly have to say to me right now?”“I’m sorry.”She wasn’t expecting that. Understandable, neither was I. But my hands, I now realize, were stating this fact on repeat. Saying it in many ways. Cries for forgivenesses, pleas for understanding. The spoken words came from me without my conscious intent for them to do so.I frown.Looking down, I assess these traitorous hands which have tricked me in this day. My mind must be confiscated. My usual way of 'thinking out loud’ with my hands has been so suddenly inverted back into the Dance of Hands that I was taught as a child. I was unaware of the calibration that would be necessary. The rusty nature of my Salk De’rahi has come to fruition and exposed my intent prematurely. Without context nor clarification.No sense in it now.  It is still the truth. With much effort, I look back up to her, and attempt a semblance of neutrality that I know will not work on her cunning eyes, but hope might disinterest a bored onlooker.“I... Didn’t mean for that… demeanor earlier. I’m... not entirely sure from whence it came. It troubled you, or maybe it didn’t!” I say, less certain now in this reading of her reaction. My pich raises with the mania of my madness, “Perhaps it didn't trouble you at all and this is entirely misconstrued!”Her face goes softer, but remains inscrutable. Her stance is just as combative, though her grips on her upper arms have lessened. This seems… positive, but it is difficult to know without a tertiary point of reference. Perhaps I should have asked Rosie to stay? Ah, but no, she wasn’t present for the initial outburst, she may not understand the delicacy at hand. And naturally, neither of them could possibly remember that Walnut and I have already shared such private discussions before. In another time, at least, we did.These recollections are bordering on the application of a heavy emotion. I can feel that tug in my chest more acutely now. When did this tether become so tight? What a folly I have allowed myself to succumb!“I see,” she says slowly.Ah, so she was upset then. Perhaps she is still experiencing the chemically induced emotional reaction even now. I wonder if I should have waited, after all. But no, I promised to tell her things of this significance in less time, and this was when I accepted this information. It was a promise. One she will never remember - because it never happened - but one I can still uphold.“I didn’t want it to... linger. I hope you can understand?” I reply, still using Common, not sure now if I should have started the conversation in Elvish. Was it unwise to start the conversation in Common? But in this matter perhaps consent was important. No matter now, it has been done. Is it possible that, in fearing the negative outcome I consider may still result from this conversation, I thought I would be able to somehow gauge her state of mind?She has not moved, so I stumble onward hoping that if I say enough words that I can find the correct response. Can elicit a genuine understanding.“I had not intended any difficulty, and it seems that in my reaction I misread some social understanding, as I am wont to do, from time to time I suppose. At any rate, it was not an intentional calculation and so I was unaware that it was amiss until after the moment had passed. It’s possible old Drow structures or defiance thereof are rising to the fore, as I interact with my past-self. Should… It happen again. Oh, I don’t know,” I shrug, “Perhaps the vessel is defective - though I already expect that to be the case. I suppose if another such behavior should occur a hard reset may be in order*.”She leans in and squints at me. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”“Ah, a good question. I suppose it means whatever you need it to mean? It was simply the first phrase that came to mind. It is possible that the proximity to him and his incongruous Causal threads are creating some sort of malfunction in me. If symptoms persist, you could knock me unconscious, or kill me if need be. Whatever seems appropriate, I suppose.”Her arms finally uncross and she rubs her temples, closing her eyes. When her hands fall to her sides, she opens her eyes again and looks to Muth’riss, who I see now is looking intently back and forth between the two of us. When she turns her gaze back to me, she speaks in Elvish, “It wasn’t a very good one, but I accept your apology.” With a pause and stilted tone she continues, “I guess... If I said something, I don’t know, lets just not do it again, okay? Agreed? No hard feelings?”A weight that I was adamantly attempting to ignore finally lifts from my thoughts and I feel the smile return to my face. How odd for it to be so readily accessible to me again after just a few spoken words! What power language has, even when it is bereft of magic! With a nod I stand, and offer her my arm, which she takes without flinching.“Of course,” I reply in Surface Elvish.Immediately after my words she straightens herself back up and coughs.Maintaining our now Elvish conversation, she fumbles to find a new topic, “uh, well, cool. Glad that’s over. Uh. I think I’ll go see if Rosie needs any help, then, I guess. I guess?”Without much other than a half-shrug, she turns and walks back to the kitchen.I exhale.“Is that normal?” Comes the small voice beside me.With my gaze still following her into the kitchen, I reply softly to him. “Sometimes, unfortunately. Existence is cruel to the threads that connect us. All I can do is continue tying knots and hope someday they will not unravel.”When I turn to him, I see that he is confused. Of course, he doesn't know what I’m talking about, either. In that, he is just like them. He experiences life through the only path he is allowed to, one that he is…I look to the space around him and remember that the path he should be connected to is not the here and now. So where is his connection, and how do I repair it? Or is this simply where he is meant to be? The questions of how or who he might be in a linear-time sense are troubling, but they should be solvable with diligence.“Perhaps we should retire for the evening. I have some notes still to write, and I am sure you are tired from the day.”He looks to the notes I handed him, then the increasingly empty tavern. “I suppose…” As instructed. “Is this the end of their… awake time..?” [Is it] Also Called ‘Day’?   “It only just got dark, though…” [That’s] Disappointing. “Ah, yes. Unfortunately, their society is diurnal.” Light living. “To exist among them, we must acquiesce and adapt. If we were in a larger city there might be a way to retain a nocturnal relationship with the darkness, but even then, the hours desired are short and do not offer all the necessities offered during the day.” Services unavailable. “I’m afraid this is the easiest way.” [You’ll] acclimatize. I can see I have forgotten another discrepancy in knowledge when the look he gives me is still, and he slowly raises his hands for inquiry.I find his interest wearisome, however, in light of my desire to get to work solving this mystery I have been tasked. His mystery. The mystery of him, or me, or both! With an offer to answer more questions in the morrow, I guide him back to my room. Curious, though, how I understand his need to know all that is before him, and yet to find myself increasingly inadequate to sustain his questionings.“You can rest first. I have other furnishings I can trance on,” Desk chair, etc. “should I tire before you wake. The bed is at your disposal. Perhaps tomorrow I can find you some books to read. Remind me what languages you can read again?”“... You did it again.” Knowledge of me. “Ah, did I? Which did I do?” Curious. “You said ‘remind me’. It has been increasingly obvious that you know who I am.” Intimately. “Not just by our House.” Speak privately. Request/please? “Oh, I see. I.. Yes, well…”I can’t. Why can’t I tell him? He’s just me , this should be inconsequential. He should know the truth just as I do. It might be out of turn to tell him, of course, but that’s not the reason that seems to be preventing me. So if not, then what? There is of course the possibility, as Walnut said, that in him knowing, then it could affect his outcome, but in that case his outcome would already be divergent from my own. The losses and gaps of memory that this instance of myself experiences have not yet come to pass in his short collection of years. He is already not me. He may never become me as a result of his very existence here, but I was him once. That is simply a fact. It should be no matter to tell him.Yet so...“It’s possible I’m confusing you for another. Someone who must be… far older than you are. The resemblance seems to be the cause of the confusion. But you are not him, I think, perhaps akin to, but the more I see your actions, the less I am certain.” No concern “So! As to the question, if I can obtain books for you, in what languages should they be?” Subject? He ponders that for a while, and though I attempt to keep calm, I feel a sweat breaking over my skin. What is the cause of these unusual responses I’m experiencing? Am I nervous of some reaction of his? Why would that be, he’s just…I wonder if he already knows the truth.“Just Undercommon and Elvish/Ilythiiri.” Surface topics. Plants? “How many do you know?” Languages? “Ah well, vocally just as you, but with the addition of surface Common. Reading, however is a very different story. I can read any language.” Forget [that] others cannot. Ah yes, there it is. His eyes open wide, and I smile with a titter. He is so very childish. Of course he would love such a skill, it is a magnificent one, to be sure. Such a reaction has no price. His eyes could see so much. I wonder how such a desirable gift like the Eyes of the Runekeeper would affect him at this age--AH! Yes, but that is not my intention here. He is displaced. This is not my intended experiment, though it is an interesting thought problem that I will enjoy considering.“You should rest now, young one. If the snow doesn't melt tonight, then it will be just as bright a day tomorrow and we may be called to assist with the tavern. Ah! Indeed, I never summoned my velvet servants to assist Propha. You rest, I shall summon them now.”With a soft nod, he does his best to get comfortable as I step into the Meeting Room to begin my rituals. I determine that, as the temperature will likely have dropped in the dark, a third servant may be required. Additionally, this gives me 11 more minutes to hope for him to fall into a deep trance.Now I may begin my studies.**      _________________________________________This is just the text from the images_________________________________________Observations on the First Night:I have made some notes throughout the day documenting this young specimen’s behavior, which, by no means yet determinable, has proved to be somewhat elusive. The discrepancy in behavior as I expected them to be, and to what he seemingly displays, indicates to me that either he is not who I would believe he should be, or far more concerning, that at his age I was never actually good at falsifying behaviors to the outside observer. If I presume the later to be true, it does clarify some things, in retrospect, unfortunately. Indeed, it is then no wonder why at his age the murmurs would have begun. Perhaps my memories are of years after, when I had attempted to curb those rumors and whispers by acting more in accordance to what I was instructed, but it is clear to me in observing him now, that the damage to his credibility would already have been done. The chips in his facade are visible, and to fill and repair them at this point would only further call attention to the weak material from which he was constructed. If only I had known the Mask of Many faces at his age, perhaps things may have been different for a time, alas, to leave that place was likely still the end result, even if the mitigating circumstances were something different in the short-term. I suppose, in a way, Mother had been right - I was not, indeed, fooling anyone.These observations aside, as they have no immediate bearing on how to restore his reality, I must consider the ways in which to study him. Worth bearing in mind is the promise I made to Propha to attempt for no harm to come to him. It was never outwardly stated, but I suppose care should be made to protect his mental as well as his physical forms. This said, then, I have begun the night, simply observing him and the air and aether in which he swims.Alike when in the Kryptgarden forest where Walnut’s father resided, I can see strands emitting from him, seeking, thrashing. His Causality is tattered, but whereas with Walnut, it took simply finding that which was the correct thread by which to tie off - in that case her true father - I am not sure where to seek this specimen’s connection. Indeed, if the fact that he appeared within my room was any suggestion, it might be stated that he should have some connection here which I could find. Clearly, such a thing would be far to easy. It seems, as all that is in this room is nothing… Or at least nothing more or less than usual. If given preference, I would desire something to this extreme, as the mystery leaves room to explore my own research and to utilize him as a point of reference and verification of data.Ah, but as my memory stirs, I remember that Walnut’s Causality was altered in the stomach of the Sangulith, of which the portal was found near Neverwinter. My room is not the Sangulith, nor is it inside some shardling entity. There is no gate here, no arcane arch, no foreign sigils to comprehend and possess. So then, what other similarities are there? If only I could remember the number of years between us I could better calculate the vectors of our distributed causalities and thereby formulate a reverse triangulation of dynamic events and better study the deviations, thereby -hopefully- providing insights to potential corrective procedures. There are some constants that I can trace, more or less, to his present state, but my own remains somewhat elusive due to the rupturing of my causal memories by way of attempting to become an isolated free radical for the Ur to triangulate.  I suppose some effort in attempting to know the difference is still worth [Pictures] Tendrils and Webs and the Causalities as they intersect? Where there should be a static plane, insteadthere is the juxtaposition of his presence here.Perhaps the “present” is more than just a moment,but a complex and subversive layer of parallelswith their own possibilities Dynamic time warping at the present state Variance observed [/Pictures] Hmm, having spent some hours pondering the abstract, I wonder in more concrete forms if my excursion today had some impact on all this? Certainly no documented instance of these fomes frigamortes alluded to the ability to tear asunder past and present in such a way as to instantiate a mirror of the past, but that does not mean it is not so, as the instantiated target and triggering interaction did not, in my case, occur at the same physical location. It’s possible other such happenings simply went unobserved.. Did my thoughts at those moments in the woods think of him?Ah, but if only I could distill the pure memory, as now my seeking an answer leaves me questioning my recollection once again. Do I continue to remember thoughts from the cold with the bias of assuming there must some truth there only to later discover that in my desperation I fabricated the memory entirely? Created instead a reality that made sense to such a simple entity as myself with the result that all further study was predicated on misinformation? It is impossible for such self reflective clarity when the perspective of the one looking is from above; as one peering into a deep well. How deep or shallow is this basin of thought? Are more or less of these fluid memories missing, or is the truth therein accurate? I had not known my several decades of lost memory to indeed be some number of centuries until Fenn had indicated such. I cannot say with certainty any thing involving my own self until I can find a solid proof to base these studies upon. Neither he nor I have any such concise proof to offer.The time for passive inquiry is at an end, so I began to walk about the room for a couple of hours, watching as these causal tendrils brush against my own, flap against the corners of the room, and retract back within him. They appear to be seeking, but they seek in vain. A new tendril emerges as another recedes. A cycle continuing but no resolution obtained. They are as wounded vines, looking for a perch upon which to hold and resume growth. Climbing deeper and upwards simultaneously. Any perch a worthwhile investigation, but nothing to nourish or solidify upon.Realizing my moving about set off his subconscious senses for the briefest moment, I justify my motion through the room by tidying, and condensing books. In the morning I will offer him a corner for his own sparse possessions and the books I shall provide him. In part, I had hoped that his tendrils would have clung, or pointed me to a tome or two, perhaps a specific page or a hint, but they seem to largely be unaffected by the things about my room. Even the tetrathenotica I have marked out, and my Ur focus seem largely uninteresting to them, which I found especially noteworthy. This could, again, be attributed to the fact that he is not yet me, and so his connection to my focus is presently nonexistent. Walnut’s Causality didn’t seem to interact with me in any appreciable way. In fact, her and Saleth’s Causalities only seemed to have any interaction with my presence when I was in a specific perspective, to which I am unsure is a result of the focus, or my ability to somehow actualize the Ur’s will through it.Whatever may be the cause, that has not seemed to be the case here yet.I do wonder, what would happen if he could be brought to that altar, the place where this chipped stone was found. Is there power still there, or is that tattered alter merely an echo, now? Defunct?Postulating about bringing him underground, unfortunately, is not something I believe to be feasible at present. It’s possible that Coriander could take us there, though many of the roads between here and there are certainly impassable, even with the aid of the spell Rosie casts over the cart. If I knew what connective threads he was searching for - what fact had been altered - I could understand better. With Walnut it was a replaced father, but for him…For him there is nothing. I see no connection. Is this simply because I do not know what to search, or is there some other reason? A portent that I cannot read?I will retire for now and consider. Perhaps there is a clue in our father’s study. * Look, Man, K'thriss once said "sometimes other gods speak to me" so I think a near-4rth wall break every now and again is acceptable. I mean, this IS the same Material Plane that Paultin lives in.