Chapter Text
The life of a halfling was already stressful enough, Chilchuck felt. Between the total lack of rights, the equally lacking money in their communities, and the way literally every other race terrorized them, he felt like they’d long had their hands full.
But apparently nature disagreed, because they had one more feature that was probably supposed to be helpful, but really proved to be an issue at all the worst times.
That being, their senses.
-
Mandrakes killed through some sort of brain damage, that was common knowledge. It was difficult to study, so not much more was known than that. Laios had been rambling about how cool it would be to actually hear their shriek, and how if it wouldn’t kill him, he’d love to hear what it sounded like.
It’s during this that Chilchuck, feeling maybe a bit more willing to entertain him, looks up with a grin.
“What about Banshees?”
“Banshees?” Laios frowns. Immediately, Chilchuck feels his mood drop. Just his luck that apparently the one monster he’d wanted to discuss, Laios doesn’t even know about.
“Yeah, Banshees. Don’t you know those?”
“No, sorry.”
“Oh.”
“Really sorry…” Laios emphasises, seeming genuinely upset at his lack of knowledge.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. I doubt they’re real, anyways.”
For some reason, that piques Laios’ interest. He gets this little glint in his eye, and moves his head to properly look at Chilchuck. “Well, maybe. But maybe they are. What do they do? Are they a part of your people’s mythos?”
“They’re- can you please give me a little personal space?” He pushes his palm against Laios’ forehead, which at this point is practically touching his. “Yes, they are a halfling legend. They’re these bereaved women who can take your soul with their wailing.”
Behind them, Shuro clears his throat. “I’ve actually heard of those before.”
Laios whips his head around so fast, Chilchuck almost feels offended. “You have??”
Shuro shrinks down under Laios’ attention, visibly uneasy at all the eyes suddenly on him. “…Yes. Though, I’d never heard of them actually killing anyone before. I thought they just warned you about your death.”
“Huh.” Chilchuck pauses with a puzzled look. “Wait, Shuro. Didn’t you say I was the first halfling you’d ever seen? Like, as in, you didn’t even know we existed, prior?”
“Yes.”
“…so, ok…where the hell did you hear about Banshees??”
He shrugs. “I honestly don’t remember. I think it was in a book somewhere, maybe?”
“And they didn’t bother to mention where that story came from?”
“They didn’t.”
“Figures,” he scoffs. Shuro offers an apologetic look, as if it’s his fault somehow.
“Maybe that means they’re real?” Laios butts in. Chilchuck and Shuro exchange a glance.
Namari hums. “Or it just means an easterner heard about it while on a trip and stole the idea.”
“That’s probably it,” Chilchuck agrees. Shuro nods silently, making Laios deflate. He looks so bummed that Chilchuck feels bad, especially since he’s not entirely disbelieving of them himself. He sighs. “But maybe Laios is right. They could very well be real. I mean, you never know, right? And it’s not like humanoid monsters are unheard of.”
Laios beams, and Namari and Shuro shrug acceptingly, looking like they really couldn’t care less either way.
“Oh they’re real alright,” Marcille says in a low voice, appearing behind Namari, making everyone jump. Namari in particular lets out a colorful string of curses, clutching her chest in shock.
“You elves…” she pants. Marcille glares at her, but doesn’t engage, seeming too intent on sharing her Banshee knowledge.
Chilchuck crosses his arms. “Sorry, how do you know for a fact that they exist? Have you seen one?”
She shakes her head no. “They were in my textbook though, Falin and I studied them.”
The group looks to Falin, who looks both caught off guard, and like she’s been wanting to talk about this for a while. “Um, but they’re slightly different than what Chilchuck and Shuro are describing.”
“Different how?” Laios says with an airy lift in his tone. Bad, bad sign. Chilchuck is certain he’s gonna try and find one now.
“They’re closer to Chilchuck’s version, but they don’t take your soul. Their wail creates visions of horrible grief and loss-“
“-which trap the victim in this totally shellshocked state! While paralyzed, the banshee feeds on their anguish until there’s nothing left,” Marcille says, interrupting.
Laios hums. “So sort of like a cross between a succubi and a nightmare, then?”
“I guess so, yeah.” Marcille agrees. Falin steps forward, body language getting more animated by the second.
“Right! But what’s really interesting is that they’re something you rarely find outside of natural dungeons. It’s not unheard of, but it’s pretty uncommon, which is because the soul in natural dungeons is more potent and better equipped to deal with their mana, especially deeper levels, so…” Chilchuck zones out as she starts to explain why in depth. That’s never been his interest. He finds Banshees cool for their drama, more than anything. The concept of a bereaved widow turning monstrous has always fascinated him. He’ll tune back in when, if, they get to that stuff.
“So it’s kind of like a spirit, then?” Laios says, which draws Chilchuck back into the conversation for some reason.
Falin worries her bottom lip. “Not quite, a spirit might drag up past grief, a banshee traps you with visions of potential grief that the victim fears.”
“How do you snap someone out of it?”
“…there’s not a lot of research into it, but apparently the best way they’ve found so far is to just share the grief. That’s supposed to comfort the victim, which disrupts the Banshee’s focus.”
Chilchuck snaps his fingers, excited to understand while simultaneously resenting his excitement at that. “Right, because they feed off of despair.”
“Exactly! Misery loves company,” Falin grins.
Laios makes a face. “Couldn’t you also just cover their ears?”
“Probably. I haven’t read that old book in years, but they always did somehow leave out the easiest solutions.” The last part is said in a whisper, aimed away from Marcille. Chilchuck gets the impression that they have conflicting opinions on this.
-
Laios, typical, gets separated from the others again.
He’d asked Chilchuck to accompany him to a monster den he’d seen, looking for little bats (like big bats but incredibly small) if he’s remembering right. They’d taken a wrong turn getting there, then Laios had been stubborn and pressed on even when they really should’ve turned back then, and after that they took another wrong turn, then Chilchuck had gotten stubborn and insisted he could figure it out, so they took another turn, also wrong. Eventually they’d gone astray from any sort of remotely familiar destination.
..Honestly, if Chilchuck had a coin for every time Laios made a reckless decision that got him in a bad situation, he’d have enough money to make sure no halfling community would ever go hungry again.
Counting their current predicament, this was the third time Laios had gotten himself separated from the party; though, to be fair, it was the first time anyone else had been dragged along.
He shrugs off the concern and irritation. Despite his recklessness, Laios has so far proven to be one of the most decent party leaders Chilchuck has worked with. He’ll remain professional and not make a big stink over what could be nothing. So they’re lost. So what? Worse things have happened.
Screw Laios and his monster obsession, though. Little bats didn’t even seem that exciting in retrospect.
“Chil?” Laios calls, snapping him out of his thoughts. Chil?? Did this asshole seriously just…
“Don’t call me that,” he replies curtly. That vow of professionalism seeming suddenly much harder to stick by.
Laios frowns. “Huh? Why not? Didn’t- or, I mean- at least, I thought-“ he hesitates. “Don’t half-foots call their friends by their first names? Or did I get that wrong?”
He sounds so earnest and sincere that it makes Chilchuck short-circuit. Friends?? Eventually, when he manages to get his bearings, he sighs deep and low. “First of all, it’s not just a casual friendly thing. You only call people by their first name if you’re really, incredibly close. Like, family and lovers, maybe best friends, is really the only times you see that…” he pauses, searching Laios’ face to make sure he understands that. Then he continues. “Also, no offence, but I didn’t even realize you considered us friends.”
“You don’t consider us friends?”
“Uh. No. You’re a coworker who’s occasionally decent conversation, and a pretty alright leader. That’s where you end for me.”
“Oh,” Laios pouts.
Annoyed, Chilchuck pinches the space right above his nose bridge, between the brows. “Please don’t tell me you thought we were close or something. I can’t take that sort of awkwardness.”
“N— no. I didn’t,” he stammers, but as he says it, the tips of his ears grow a bright shade of salmon. He’s clearly lying, but if pretending to believe him will end this horrible conversation faster, then Chilchuck is more than willing to lie a little himself.
“Good.”
They keep walking, now in relative peace and quiet. Chilchuck kicks a loose piece of rubble, and tries not to think too hard about how bad he feels now knowing that apparently, Laios had genuinely considered him a buddy. Why? he has no clue. They did occasionally drink together after work, but that was where their relationship ended. Honestly, he had a closer connection with Namari, and he didn’t consider her anything other than a coworker either! But now, oh no, he’s questioning that too!
Stupid Laios. Stupid, endearing, reckless, can’t-take-hints-to-save-his-life, Laios.
“You know,” says the aforementioned idiot, interrupting Chilchuck’s silent fuming session. Before he can even look back at him, Laios’ face is right against his, leaning all the way in like he’s worried his voice isn’t already loud enough. “I’ve actually heard of water child sightings in this dungeon.”
This does catch Chilchuck’s attention, and not just because of the extremely creepy vibe he’s suddenly putting out (though that was a factor).
“I thought they only occurred in natural dungeons?”
“Generally, but if I remember it right, this is, like, technically a natural dungeon. I think.” He sounds like he’s just full on ad-libbing at this point. “I mean, that’s what Falin said at least. I don’t really know that much about dungeons.”
Chilchuck narrows his eyes. “Huh? Aren’t you the guy always rambling about that kind of crap??”
“No, what I really like is monsters. I- I’m not not interested in dungeons, but…eh.” He waves his hand nonchalantly.
“Huh.”
There’s a beat of silence before Laios speaks again. “But you know, if there are water children here, there could be a banshee too.”
-
They’re still lost, and Chilchuck is getting a little nervous. How long has it been? 3 hours? Longer?
Laios clearly has no idea where he’s going, which doesn’t help his unease at all. Maybe it sounds crazy, but it’s starting to feel like the dungeon…like, wants them to be lost and separated from their party. The further they go, the more twisting and complicated the path seems to get.
“Weren’t we just here?” Laios says eventually. They’d been walking in relative silence for a while, Chilchuck’s internal clock says it feels like half an hour. He misses that nifty little pocket watch he’d bought from a dwarven shop in Kahka Brud way back when. It’d been stolen at some point by an old party, and he never found himself with that sort of spare change again. A damn shame, especially now; at least if he had that, he’d have something to occupy himself with.
The air is stale and uneasy, it feels like both of them have something to say, but neither want to spill it. It’s an awful feeling, tense and oppressive, and yet it still feels like the best bet. As awful as the silence is, breaking it would be worse.
Yet here Laios is, breaking it anyway.
He sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. All these hallways are starting to look indistinguishable from each-other…”
“Yeah…”
They stop moving. Or, rather, Laios stop moving and Chilchuck follows suit for some reason.
“What?” He frowns. Laios better not be having a spontaneous mental break, he cannot deal with that, not now and not ever.
“Never-mind, thought I heard something,” Laios dismisses.
“If you’d heard something, I’d have heard it first.”
“Oh, right.” His shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Chilchuck hadn’t even noticed he was tense until he saw him relax. “That’s true.”
They keep walking. It’s still uncomfortable, but now in a different way. They’re both on edge. That’s when Chilchuck hears it.
At first it’s a low whistle, then it’s a higher pitched hum, and then a keening wail.
He’s about to bring it up to Laios, worry outweighing embarrassment, when something catches his eye.
A tuft of copper brown hair, bloody and matted, splayed across the cold cobble floors.
He loathes how he recognizes it immediately, and as his eyes move across the shape, his stomach sinks. In the flick of a hummingbird’s wings, his whole world crumbles around him.
The body it’s attached to, even supposing he hadn’t recognized the hair, has a face that he would know anywhere.
Mei. His little girl. She’s lying there, dead, her own blood pooled around her.
Somehow, in that moment, he knows for certain that it is forever. That she is gone. No amount of revivals or healing spells can fix her. He doesn’t know why he knows, let alone how — all he knows is that his little girl is dead and mutilated and he has failed in his most basic, fundamental task as a father.
And now he’s never, ever, ever going to see her again.
The last time they’d spoken had been an argument, hadn’t it?
Now that’s his permanent and final impression on his daughter. That knowledge makes him want to throw up, makes him want to die.
He forgets all about Laios, about the job, hell, even where he is; past and future all bleed out of perception, all he knows is this pinprick of a millisecond, then the next, then the next.
Legs moving without orders, he sprints towards her. His body is working independent of his mind. The desperation he feels is something primal.
Even if she’s dead, and she is, he needs to hold his little girl. He only knows that one thing.
He needs to hold his daughter.
-
Laios had been debating if one of them should try to climb the walls to get a better view, or if that was weird and counterproductive, when suddenly Chilchuck had roughly and without warning shoved past him. It was like he didn’t even register Laios’ presence as anything more than an obstacle.
That was the first indication that something was really wrong.
Chilchuck may be a lot of things: snippy, blunt, cranky, often even just downright mean…but in their months working together, he was never once inconsiderate. Despite his prickly exterior, he always gave everyone respect and his full attention. It’s why Laios liked him so much.
Given that fact, seeing this coming from him really wasn’t sitting right.
Laios looked ahead to see what he was running towards, and frowned when he saw nothing. He searched around for only a few moments before he saw a shape across the room.
A hunched woman, almost entirely cloaked in the shadows projected by the dungeon’s poor lighting. Her hair was long and grey, it looked uncared for. She was waiting, he could tell immediately.
And, with enough horror to snap him back to the present, he realizes that Chilchuck is running straight for her. He doesn’t have time to figure out anything else, like what she is, or what she wants — only that she’s a predator who’s just found prey. Some sixth sense left in him by his distant ancestors, warning him of danger.
He dashes in front of Chilchuck, skidding to a halt and tackling him to the ground before he can reach her. Maybe a reckless move, but he wasn’t sure what else to do.
He begins to fight against him, hitting him with all his might and screaming. It’s jarring coming from a guy who’d never been anything but professional and generally courteous. He must see something Laios can’t, is the only explanation he can think of.
The harder he fights, the tighter Laios’ hold becomes.
“LET ME GO!” He shrieks, finally finding words. “You bastard! Let me see her!!”
‘Her’…? Chilchuck’s fist connects with Laios’ jaw, hard. He almost loses his grip at that…almost. “Who?” He asks, feeling entirely out of his depth.
Chilchuck struggles again, thrashing wildly. “MY DAUGHTER! She’s hurt! She’s—“ the sentence is cut through the middle with a shudder, like he can’t even get the right word out. “Let me see her, Laios, PLEASE !” His voice breaks.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Laios thinks he knows what that old woman is now.
“That’s not your daughter,” he tries for firm, but is starkly aware of how unconfident and wavering he sounds. Maybe if he’s really lucky that will confuse him enough to snap him out of it.
“YES IT FUCKING IS!”
Ok, so it doesn’t work, obviously. What did Falin say again…? She mentioned a way to disrupt its control over the victim.
Was it covering their ears?
He tries that, pressing his palms as tight as he can, (which, maybe is a little too tight,) against Chilchuck’s ears. He cries out in pain, then slams his boot against Laios’ chest in an animalistic attempt to get away.
It’s not hard enough to do any real damage, just enough to hurt. Laios huffs in defeat, having no further plan, since he’s forgotten what other thing Falin said, and apparently covering their ears won’t work — also, apparently he’s physically much stronger than he thought. He should really be more careful with that.
“You bastard, you piece of shit bastard,” Chilchuck curses, then says some more things in a language Laios has never heard before. “I should’ve known! You’re no different than the rest of ‘em!”
Oh.
The words hurt, because this time he actually kind of knows what Chilchuck is talking about. He’d been cautiously open about troubles with party leaders in the past, and his oddly specific contract lended itself to that. Now he’s pretty sure it runs way deeper than he’d thought, and he’s just been added to that terrible pile of terrible people doing terrible things.
Unsure what else he can do, he adjusts their position to some kind of half embrace.
“How old is your daughter?”
Chilchuck’s movements slow considerably, exhaustion beginning to set in. Eventually he stops entirely. “She’s 14. Only just became an adult.” His breath stumbles, then breaks as he sobs loudly. It’s unexpected, and Laios feels something that he could only describe as the sort of sensation you get when you haven’t eaten for a few days, or when you get the wind knocked out of you. “This isn’t fair…Laios, please, I need to hold her. Please.”
Geez. He’s really the wrong person for this, isn’t he? Gritting his teeth, Laios resists the urge to glance back where the Banshee was huddled last time he saw it. He’s not always the most emotional person, but something about the way Chilchuck is pleading is really breaking his heart. He hadn’t even realized he had a family until today, let alone children, and let alone adult ones.
Unfortunately his lack of an answer must be taken the worst possible way, because the struggling starts back up full force.
“Dammit, Laios! Let me go! Let me see her!” He cries.
It’s hard not to give in, really hard. “I’m sorry,” he can’t help but say. Without thinking much about it, he pulls him into a proper hug, rather than the awkward restraining one they were in. He’s trying everything at this point — maybe his attempt at comfort will do something.
Chilchuck’s head rests cradled between Laios’ neck and collarbone, one palm is pressed firmly between his shoulder blades, and the other wound around his side. His breaths come hot and ragged, stuttering out inconsistently. Laios can feel the way his body is shaking, especially pronounced since they’d already been getting ready for bed when he spotted the den, and he’d neglected to put his armour back on, thinking it would only be a short walk.
He feels so small and helpless, something Laios had never really had come to mind before. He wasn’t really the sentimental type, and he didn’t view Chilchuck as a cute kid the way Marcille or Shuro seemed to.
For some reason, in this moment, he can’t help it. There’s a difficult-to-name feeling that comes with physically restraining a parent who thinks they’re experiencing one of the worst things a parent could, and doing it like it’s nothing. Like it’s easy.
Meanwhile Chilchuck, in all his grief, fighting as hard as he possibly can, still can’t break free.
Laios winces when that realization dawns on him. Any tallman could just do this — in fact, any other race could probably do this to any unlucky half-foot parent. He really, really doesn’t like that.
He feels it more than he hears it when another anguished wail is torn from Chilchuck’s throat, only this time it’s followed with quiet, defeated sobbing. It’s hard not to feel terrible about it, honestly, Laios feels just as guilty as he did when he left his village all those years ago.
He just…He can’t help the nagging thought that this is his fault. Something that had at the time seemed like an easy trip before bed had turned into something awful, so, so fast. Should he have predicted this? Maybe if he knew more about dungeons, he’d have known that it would shift and change beneath their feet, isolating them and getting them into this mess.
Moments that feel like hours tick by, and before he can consider Falin’s words again, he feels a weight he’d never felt before. It’s a crushing sensation, coming from the top of his head down to his chest, and resting at his knees.
He doesn’t think he can move, suddenly far too heavy for his body. A profound loss within him blooms, and it echos years he never lived. Time spent with someone he never met. Someone he loves more than anything, and someone he can’t help but mourn.
Is that what grief feels like? He’s shocked. He thought he’d known it, but now he thinks he absolutely didn’t. If this is grief, he’d never met her before.
He can feel Chilchuck move in his arms, and then he can hear him yelp at something just past them.
Laios turns around, and the brief encounter with grief is swiftly replaced with something different.
The woman, the crouching old woman, is now much bigger. Younger, too. Her hair, once grey and mangled, now brown and braided. She looks a bit like Chilchuck. Laios feels sick when he realizes why that is, what it must be imitating.
It’s looming over them, its jaw agape and wet, indicating a horrible, all consuming hunger.
Fear. He thought he knew fear, too. Now he thinks he was mistaken.
It lunges, if such a word can describe the movement, and he barely has time to draw his shield. Sharp teeth clamp down on the metal, and cut through it.
He falls back, keeping Chilchuck behind him. It’s about to try again when he feels the jagged remains of his shield be torn from his hand, and sees a small figure leap in front of him, protecting him.
“Chilchuck,” he says, breathless. Chilchuck doesn’t look back at him. He’s shaking with rage, holding the metal like a weapon. He was probably right about the face, then. Laios looks on in shock. He doesn’t think he’d be able to be in this position, if this was Falin. Even if it wasn’t really her, he doesn’t think he’d be able to kill a creature with her face attached. That would be way too much.
It lunges, and with speed that Laios did not know he had, Chilchuck begins to slash at it with a terrifying intensity. The way he moves is like water, like a strong current running over river rocks. It’s impressive. This style of fighting is probably not sustainable or replicable, but it is at least beautiful to watch in motion.
Grief was replaced with fear, and fear is replaced with something Laios doesn’t quite recognize. Warmth?
He feels woozy, underwater, overheated.
Despite those sensations all being things that ordinarily he hates feeling, when they’re all combined at once, he finds it somehow pleasant.
He watches as Chilchuck tackles the monster to the ground, and without any hesitation, rips it’s heart from a concave and unguarded chest. It stills underneath him, death seeming more like prize than punishment.
The room is suddenly deafeningly silent. The only noise is Chilchuck’s breathing, but even that sounds muffled.
Finally, he turns back to Laios.
“It’s dead,” he breathes. He’s covered in blood and frost, his hair is messy and his eyes are bloodshot and glossy.
Laios thinks his jaw has fallen open, though he’s unconvinced he could close it even if he tried.
“Are you ok?” He asks stupidly. Chilchuck pauses, seeming deeply surprised by what Laios had considered to be the most obvious question.
“No,” he answers without even having to consider whether or not he wants to be honest. His eyes dart to Laios’ face, and his brow furrows. “…Are you?”
Laios frowns. Is there something on his face? Confused, he prods at himself with one hand.
It comes back wet, and he realizes then that tears are streaming down his cheeks. Without saying anything, Chilchuck moves towards him, stopping only inches away from Laios. A gloved hand comes up and wipes them away, leaving a smear of blood in their wake.
His hand is still against Laios’ jaw for a moment or two.
“I’m sorry.”
Laios blinks. He hadn’t even realized he was in a trance until those two words snapped him out of it.
He lifts his head a little. In this moment, at this angle, Chilchuck sort of towers over him. It’s intimidating. “Huh? What are you sorry for?”
“Earlier, I said you were the same as everyone else. You aren’t,” he says, his voice is gravely.
“Oh,” Laios replies.
Chilchuck glances back at the heart of the Banshee, the only thing that didn’t disappear when she died. He looks like he might start crying again.
“If- if you don’t want to hire me again, I understand,” he says eventually, quietly, curling in on himself. “I acted terribly, unprofessionally, and impulsively. I mean, god, I should’ve known it wasn’t-“ he cuts himself off, hand covering his mouth to muffle the distress he’s no doubt feeling. Laios watches his eyes brim with tears. “It just- it felt so real…” The way he’s talking sounds completely foreign coming from him. He sounds scared, ashamed, desperate.
Laios wishes he knew more about Banshees, then he might be able to offer some insight. It’s actually frustrating how little he can do right now. Having to rely on his own words is something he’s never been good at.
“You acted how any parent would in that situation,” he tries anyways, his voice soft as he can make it go. “Why would I blame you for that?”
The stretch of silence worries him for some reason, but finally Chilchuck seems to relax a little. Not all the way, but just a little.
“Plus, you totally saved my life,” he adds when Chilchuck still looks unconvinced.
“I also hit you a bunch of times.”
Laios frowns and shakes his head. “Come on…you fought against a monster that was imitating your own daughter, and you won! All right after you’d been convinced she was dead! Do you know how many people would crumble in this situation? How many people this sort of thing would break? You- you’re incredible. I should feel lucky to work with you as a-…” he falters, the earlier discussion coming to mind all of a sudden. He doesn’t want to break any boundaries, especially not now. “A coworker?”
His heart skips a beat as he finally glances to meet his eyes, Chilchuck is looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky for him and him alone. When he blinks, that look doesn’t disappear.
“…Companions, not coworkers,” he says. “And you can call me by my first name, if you want.”