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It had only been their fifth excursion into the dungeon as a party. Mickbell and Kuro hadn't joined at that point, so it had just been the four of them- Kabru, Rin right behind, Holm oddly serene as always, and her, at the very back. Daya could remember how the slats of the suspension bridge had barely creaked under their sedate footsteps. It had all been too calm. She had gotten too calm.
The sensation of something gently alighting upon the top of her head had been so subtle that Daya assumed she imagined it, the way you start feeling the ghost of raindrops when the weather turns cloudy. But as the seconds passed something imperceptible shifted, and without warning, the weight on her head– light as a mother's hand– became very, very real.
Eyes still on Holm's back, Daya's grip tightened around the helve of her ax. Slowly, she reached up–
–only for something to hook around her wrist. Daya flinched, jerking her head around to find herself surrounded by dark green vines writhing like snakes. Before she could even shout, she had been dragged into the air. By the time the others whipped around, alerted by the clatter of her ax dropping to the bridge, it had been too late.
Daya had struggled and cursed, legs kicking pointlessly at the air as the vines wrapped her tighter and tighter. She could hear Kabru shouting and Rin chanting, but she couldn't make out the words– not when the flower of the man-eating plant stretched out in front of her, red and dripping like raw meat. Her legs, her chest, her neck– and then she couldn't breathe, her mouth snapping open and shut stupidly as she frantically tried to gulp even a mouthful of air in. She clawed at the vines around her throat, but it did nothing to stop the growing ache in her lungs–
The dungeon lives, as much as you or I do. It knows those who honor it, and it knows those who don't. To enter the dungeon is to disrespect it. To disrespect the dungeon is to die.
–and because a death on the second floor wasn't humiliating enough, Daya realized she was about to die with her no-good idiot fucking father's voice in her head. Baring her teeth, she stopped clawing, and instead clenched her fists around the vines. If the plant wanted to crush her, she was going to honor it by paying back in kind. Even as her vision blurred, she squeezed, tightening her grip until the veins in her arms bulged, and her features contorted into a trembling grin as she felt the plant flesh begin to break under her fingers. She wasn't going to die like this. She wasn't going to die like this! She wasn't going t
snapped open as the air hit her lungs like a slap. Gasping, Daya bolted upright, her hand flying to her throat.
"Hey, it's alright, it's alright…" Chest heaving, Daya looked to her right to find Holm and Kabru kneeling at her side. Rin stood a few feet away, pointedly facing away. "Good morning," Kabru said, smiling at her with soft blue eyes. "Welcome back."
"That– that was-" Daya gulped, attempting to regain control over her breathing. "I was–"
"You died, yup." Kabru's voice was velvet and gentle. "But Holm fixed you right up. You were only out for a few minutes."
"Don't say it like that," Rin said sharply. When Daya looked closer, she could just barely make out a faint steam rising from her staff. "Dead is dead, dungeon or not. Don't act like she just took a nap or something."
Kabru winked at Daya. "Don't mind her. I think she's feeling a little haughty because she took that thing down so fast." It suddenly occurred to Daya that Rin wasn't just facing away, but facing a heap of still-smoldering green flesh on the bridge, the remains of the man-eating plant. "I'll admit, it was pretty cool…"
"W-what does that have to do with anything?!" Rin snapped.
Whatever Kabru said in response, Daya's ears didn't hear it. She couldn't seem to pull her hand away from her neck. The freshly-healed flesh was still slightly warm.
"Daya?" She looked up to find Holm's sleepy eyes touched by concern. "You should take a moment to catch your breath. Resurrection can be a bit rough on the body."
A mortifying heat blossomed in Daya's cheeks. Under her bangs, her eyes darted between her companions. Holm, his cherubic face radiating an almost sickly-sweet sympathy. Kabru, his expression in the appropriate shape of concern, yet marred by something just a little too cold, almost curious. Rin, clearly doing her best to not look at her, unable to keep her gaze from jumping back, somewhere between scornful and disturbed.
She wasn't sure which one was worse.
"I can help you up, if you'd li–"
"Thanks, but no thanks," she said, cutting Holm off before he could get the entire sentence out. With one solid motion, she hoisted herself to her feet. "I'm not some old maid. I know what the dungeon's like, I can take a death or two." With that, she turned around, spying her ax laying near. "No need to wait on my account. We should keep moving."
As she went to retrieve her weapon, she wondered what was going through their heads. Did they know she was lying? Did they suspect it?
She tried not to think about it.
…so why am I thinking about it?
Why did I suddenly remember…?
The dirty blond half-foot, and the inky-furred kobold that followed him like a shadow...
The red-haired man who offered to buy her a drink, the only other dwarf in the tavern that night…
The tall-man with long black hair, who might have been handsome if he hadn't looked like he was about to pass out on his feet at any moment…
…oh hell.
It's because my life's flashing before my eyes.
Daya's muscles strained as she pulled at her ax. She had struck the beast's ankle with all her might, and the blade of her weapon had come to a pathetic halt barely halfway through the flesh, as if she had tried to cut a hunk of cheese with a dull knife. Frantic, she shoved her foot against the red scales as she yanked and yanked at the helve, and in her desperation, she didn't realize what the beast was doing until she felt something
(light as a mother's hand)
rest upon her head.
It was like getting ice water dumped on her. The feeling of the hand stroking her hair wasn't painful; it was the opposite– gentle, almost tender– and almost perverse to experience in the thick of battle. Completely and utterly shocked, Daya went stiff for a moment. It was a moment she didn't have.
The soft fingers clawed at her scalp, and Daya let out a gasp as she was yanked up by her hair. Dragged into the air, she didn't even have time to cry out in pain before she was released– one hand on her head replaced by two at her neck.
The beast looked at her.
Daya writhed in panic, kicking at the air and clutching desperately at its arms. The beast– the thing, the mashed-together nightmare of dragon and bird and woman– it didn't even flinch. The human face remained cold, yet oddly puzzled– almost curious– as if the pressure growing around Daya's throat was some new game it was trying. Daya's lungs screamed, her chest heaving faster and faster for air that wouldn't come. Salvia puddled in her gaping mouth and trickled down her chin as she clawed at the beast's arms– the arms of a tall-man, to add insult to injury– arms that were utterly slender compared to hers, and arms that were currently crushing her windpipe with an impossible strength.
And through it all, that thing just watched… she just watched, eyes round and gold and gleaming like coins, as Daya slowly died.
Of all things… of all fucking things…
Daya's vision began to go fuzzy as she heard what sounded like the cracking of bone.
…being strangled?!
Slowly, her hands began to slip from the beast's wrists.
What's… the saying…? Fool me once… shame on you… fool me twice…