Chapter Text
The walk back to camp felt like it took an eternity. By the time they were brushing past the entrance, hidden well enough among the brambles and shadow-roots, Rhian was shaking so violently she’d had to stow her shortswords for fear of dropping them.
The trek had done little to warm her up; the cold of the dead land around them had already been potent— adding in an impromptu swim in the frigid waters only exacerbated her misery, her leathers under her armor sticking to her, socks squelching in her boots with every step.
The damned kuo-toa had gotten the jump on them down by the shore, an entire hoard of them popping up out of the water while they’d been scouting out around the Thorm mausoleum. And it’d taken only a small series of missteps to have one of the fishy bastards smack into her and Karlach, sending them both reeling into the icy waters.
Glancing over at the tiefling, Rhian tried to decide if she was envious of her infernal engine now. Under every other circumstance imaginable, it was worst case scenario. But this time, when she was left shivering and miserable while Karlach had been able to shake off the cold in record time, clothing and gear already dry, even with her engine being stabilized… Rhian maybe wished she could borrow a little of that heat, just for a minute.
As it was, once they were through the brambles and into the heart of camp, she made a beeline to where she’d left her gear, rifling through her pack with shaking hands, and contemplating if it’d be worth it to just sit in the campfire.
Deciding that scorching herself would probably cause more harm than good, she managed to get her bag open, desperately searching for a dry set of clothes.
The cold was bone-deep at this point, seeping in to her muscles, setting her teeth to chattering. Yeah, she definitely needed to get out of her wet clothes— they had too much on the line for her to be down and out, laid up at Last Light or hanging around camp, sick from hypothermia. And the last thing she needed was more commentary from Shadowheart on her spending time with Isobel.
Once she’d found her camp clothes— her usual comfortable trousers and a shirt that covered more than she usually bothered to— Rhian sat as close to the fire as she could stand, shivers still racking her body every few seconds, a blanket pulled tight around her shoulders.
Karlach and the rest of their adventuring group had done likewise, settling in for the night, removing armor and stowing gear. Gale had wandered over to check on her at one point, Rhian politely answering she was fine, and he seemed to take the hint that she wasn’t up for much of a chat, and he’d retreated back to his section in camp.
Shadowheart lingered at the edges of her awareness— her cleric still choosing to remain distant, currently kneeling in front of her tent, head bowed while her lips moved in near-silent prayer.
Even from this distance, Rhian could catch a whiff of the incense she’d burned, making her nightly offering to the Nightsinger. She scowled, hands twisting in the blanket and pulling it tighter around her. No stranger to watching the ritual and schedule of a devout follower, she wasn’t surprised Shadowheart had continued praying to her dark goddess, yet she could still only wonder about how necessary it was. Surely, in the heart of this cold, awful curse Shar could hear their every thought, feel their misery? Rhian had been doing her best to tamper her own complaints, but her head still ached with trying to quell the cries of the land around her.
In an attempt to further ignore her, Rhian shuffled around the campfire, putting her back to Shadowheart, and gazing out across the dark water. From her current spot, she could just see the edge of the dome shielding Last Light, the beacon of hope maintained by the cleric signaling that the sanctuary still stood.
Rhian sighed. How she longed to make the trek over to the inn, her one respite from the pressure of the curse— the Selûnite magic holding it at bay so that the screaming in her head might finally quiet down to near silent.
Her thoughts were interrupted by another violent shiver. The blanket and the fire were certainly helping, if only at the surface level. Her very core felt frozen, like she’d swallowed a chunk of ice that refused to melt, sitting instead in her chest.
Letting out a low grumble that, in better times, would have gotten a chuckle and a quip out of Shadowheart, she shifted where she sat, curling in tighter on herself in an attempt to keep in as much heat as she could and staring back at the dancing flames.
Not quite slipping into her meditation, yet letting her mind traipse through her thoughts, slowly ambling along and distracting her, Rhian gave a start when she noticed someone standing beside her, unsure of how long she’d sat there in silence.
She didn’t even need to look up to know it was Karlach, her friend giving off enough heat at this proximity that it could be no one else, and also her tail kept swinging around into Rhian’s view, twitching the way it did whenever she was apprehensive.
“H-hey, Karlach,” she stuttered out, clearing her throat and trying to suppress another shake.
“Hey, soldier,” she crouched down next to Rhian, balancing lightly on her toes, “Warming up?”
Rhian shrugged, “You tell me.”
Releasing her death grip on the front of her blanket, she let it fall down one shoulder so she could lay her hand on her Karlach’s arm. The tips of her fingers were still a pale blue, looking even more ghostly against the bright red of her friend, and the temperature difference between them was even more staggering than normal. Karlach felt like she was positively on fire under her touch; a welcome reprieve.
“Damn, Rhian,” Karlach covered her hand with her own, heat seeping into her slowly.
Rhian shook off the sudden urge to curl into her side, warming up like a cat on a wood stove. If she’d had any wild shape magic left, she might have given in to that impulse, but it’d been a long day and her rest hadn’t been, well, restful.
So she settled for retreating back into her blanket, pulling it back up around her shoulders and ignoring Karlach’s falling expression at her drawing away. “I’ll be alr-right,” Rhian attempted to reassure her, refocusing her gaze forward, “I’m sure I’ll be fine once I head to bed.”
Karlach seemed to catch her dismissal, lingering a moment longer before she stood, shifting on her feet like she was unsure of whatever was on her mind. Rhian could feel her tail flick over her shoulder, finally prompting her to turn and look up at her, eyebrow arching up in silent question.
“You’re always welcome to share my tent for the night, y’know,” Karlach ran her hand up through the back of her hair, mussing the longer side of it in her nervousness at the offer, shyly extending her other to help Rhian up, should she accept.
Rhian stared at her, keeping her expression neutral even if her thoughts were pinging around her head faster than a hastened quasit.
Shadowheart still hadn’t made her way over, like she’d hoped, despite the time they’d been back in camp. By now, Rhian knew she had completed her nightly rituals and prayers, yet she’d kept her distance. She’d been trying not to read too much into that, knowing that the Sharran was just taking her faith more seriously with her Dark Lady’s attention on her.
Or so she kept telling herself.
It didn’t make her feel better about the distance.
And sharing Karlach’s tent for the night…
Shadowheart had already been quick to comment on Rhian’s proximity to Isobel, her desire to spend as much time at Last Light as possible, seemingly content to ignore the added bonus of relief from the shadow-curse to needle her about the other cleric. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was jealous.
But if she was going to ignore Rhian, and keep to herself for the time being, then so be it. That didn’t mean Rhian had to put up with the loneliness.
Besides, it was only Karlach. And she was freezing.
Rhian reached up, and by her friend’s expression, she was just as surprised at her accepting. “If you’re sure I won’t be bother…”
“Ha! ‘Course not, soldier,” she tossed her a toothy grin, “Not like you take up much space anyway.”
Rhian rolled her eyes, following Karlach back to her tent, relieved at the idea of warming up for the night.
Moving to duck in behind the tiefling, she cast one last glance back to Shadowheart, where the cleric was still kneeling in front of her own tent, head bowed, brow creased ever so slightly with a frown.