Chapter Text
Sebille.
That was all she was; a name. A name, and a dark power. A mind emptied of anything from before she awoke on the nautiloid. A mind that somehow, she knew ought to be full.
Something had taken her past from her, leaving only what little evidence could be gathered from her person. On the nautiloid, she'd been too distracted trying to survive to pay much attention to her circumstances, but a few things peeked through. The delicate golden embroidery on her sleeves, the points of her ears, the place at the back of her mind where her connection to her patron pulsed each time her magic swelled.
Then she found herself cast out of the nautiloid, plummeting to the ground, only to slow to a safe descent at the last moment. She looked around for anyone responsible, but found no one. No one alive, at least. A few mangled corpses lay strewn about, their blood soaking into the sand. There was something strangely beautiful, almost erotic, about the sight.
A glint of metal in the water drew her attention; her rapier, stabbed into the wet sand. Sebille moved to retrieve it, and froze.
In the water, her reflection stared back at her. Pinkish-grey skin, freckles, pointed ears, and void-black eyes. She was a drow. At least that'd explain why her eyes hurt. But something told her that black was not a normal eye colour for drow. A physical representation of her pact, perhaps.
She was beautiful, in an eerie sort of way. The sort of drow beauty that could bend others to her will. She'd likely have to take full advantage of it to survive without her memories.
Shaking herself, she retrieved her rapier and withdrew back to dry land. She trailed farther down the beach, and at last came across the familiar form of the half-elf cleric lying still upon the sand.
At first, Sebille thought she might have been dead. A shame—she hadn't known the half-elf for long, but she'd seemed competent and level-headed. Not to mention, having an ally in the same situation as her might prove useful. But then, the half-elf twitched, her chest rising and falling slowly.
Still alive, then.
Sebille knelt down beside the cleric's unconscious form, reaching out to shake her awake. Her hand froze above the half-elf's throat, and a sudden urge to strangle her overcame the drow. The half-elf was pretty enough, Sebille supposed, but she'd be even prettier with her guts strewn out across the sand like those other corpses.
Startled, Sebille withdrew. Where had that come from? Swallowing heavily, she nudged the cleric with her boot, until the half-elf startled awake. Alarm turned to recognition as she sat up, thanking Sebille for rescuing her from the pod on the nautiloid before immediately stating their need to find a healer. If only she knew how close she'd come to not waking up at all. She reached for her relic still lying in the sand; the one she'd taken time on the nautiloid to retrieve, even as the hells themselves had been coming down around them. Something important, then?
Sebille shook herself. She had bigger concerns at the moment. Like surviving an assault by the nearby intellect devourers still lurking inside the crashed ship, rendered feral following the deaths of their Mind Flayer masters.
Fortunately, she had an ally.