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Rhian sat down heavily, leaning back against a crate in the center of camp. She and a few of her companions had elected to come back out to Wyrm’s Lookout for the night, rather than stay at the Elfsong or in Rivington. Here, it was quieter, away from the noise of the city. She was grateful for the warmth of the setting sun on her face, the dirt and grass under her hands. She hadn’t liked being underground for so long, scouring the sewers for any trace of Orin and the Temple of Bhaal, and her missing drow.
Fighting Orin had taken nearly everything they’d had, and she was exhausted, but the relief at having Minthara back was incomparable.
They hadn’t spoken much back in the Temple. Once Orin was dead, it was clear Minthara had not wanted to wait around, nor did she want company for the walk back to camp. Rhian had nearly insisted, but decided against it, simply informing her she’d be out past the city if she wanted to go somewhere quieter. She had been through enough, and it hadn’t been an argument worth having. Instead, she and Karlach had seen to burning whatever was left of Orin, at Minthara’s behest, before searching the Temple.
They’d hoped to find something that might be useful for the coming fight against Gortash, but had no such luck. Rhian had gotten more insight than she’d ever cared for into who exactly Orin was though. She shivered; not a lot had gotten to her since the nautiloid, but the state of the Temple- the dismembered bodies, the blood, the gore- had all been too much. And now, the copper scent of the blood sprayed across her armor and the stickiness of it on her skin was starting to make her nauseous again.
Best do something about that, she thought, but made no move to stand just yet, enjoying the last rays of sunlight.
She wasn’t sure how much longer she sat, simply listening to her few companions in camp. Minthara had indeed joined them, but was down the far end of camp on her own. Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Wyll, and Halsin had elected to join her. Astarion had looked at her like she was insane for opting to spend a night outside again, and he and everyone else had headed back to the Elfsong.
Somewhere off behind her, she heard her friends starting a fire, and a quick discussion on food for the evening. Her ear twitched when soft footsteps approached her, nearly masked by the dinner discussion. She gave a wry smile, “I know it’s you, Shads. You can’t sneak up on me.”
“Who’s sneaking?” Came the response, and then a whispered spell.
Rhian’s eyes shot open, and she leapt to her feet, “Don’t you-!”
She was cut off as a deluge of water hit her, soaking her head to toe. She glared at Shadowheart through the wet strands of hair hanging in her face, but her companion simply gave her a satisfied smile, “Just thought I’d offer some help, was all.”
“‘Help,’ hm?” Rhian flicked water at her off her fingertips.
Shadowheart flinched as they hit her, scrunching up her nose in annoyance. “Well, I certainly wasn’t letting you in to my bedroll looking like that.”
”I was going to change!” Rhian shot back with feigned annoyance.
“Well, hurry up then,” Shadowheart waved her off toward the crumbling building, where they’d stashed their gear on the way in.
Rhian squinted at her, then turned to go, shaking her head and smiling at her antics. At the very least, it had washed most of the blood off the front of her armor.
By the time she’d changed into her camp clothes, it was nearly dark. Everyone else was sitting around the fire, minus Minthara, and passing around plates. Rhian inhaled; whatever Wyll had cooked, it smelled wonderful.
Shadowheart had claimed a log on the far side of the fire, and Rhian moved around to sit beside her. She saw her give her a once-over, and Rhian smirked, leaning in to kiss her, “Happy now?”
“Hm, yes, much better,” she said, “Just because we walked away from a massacre doesn’t mean we have to look like it.”
Rhian laughed, “That’s… one way to put it.”
After dinner, everyone dispersed, spreading out across the campsite. Rhian stayed seated in front of the fire, next to Shadowheart, content to sit for a while before turning in.
They sat in silence, watching the fire, until Rhian finally said, “Thank you, by the way.”
Shadowheart furrowed her brow, “What for?”
“Coming with me,” she explained, “I know we’ve been through a lot together, but this felt different. More personal, I guess, tracking down Orin to get one of our own back. So, thank you, for being there.”
“Of course, love.” Leaning sideways, Shadowheart laid her head on Rhian’s shoulder. “Now, had it been Lae’zel, I might not have been so inclined.”
Rhian shook with laughter, “And here I thought you two were over… whatever this is.”
“Oh, we are.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Rhian said, but let it drop, falling back into silence.
After several long minutes, it seemed Shadowheart had slipped into her own thoughts, and Rhian tried to suppress a grin. It was an opportune time for payback for her little water stunt earlier. “Voco vinae,” she muttered under her breath, just barely audible.
Keeping her concentration, she willed a vine to sprout up near Shadowheart’s feet. From the corner of her eye, she watched as she had it snake around her ankle, and-
“What are you doing?” Shadowheart asked, “I can tell you’re up to something.”
“Hm? Nothing.”
Shadowheart sat up, suddenly suspicious. Rhian flashed her an innocent smile, but she didn’t seem to be buying it. She glanced around and- Rats.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, catching sight of the spell at her feet.
Before Rhian could call on her magic to hasten the spell, Shadowheart tackled her backward off the log, and they both fell into the dirt.
Rhian lost her hold on the spell, now focused on grappling with the cleric. She laughed, managing to throw Shadowheart off her, before attempting to get to her feet. But Shadowheart was faster, wrapping an arm back around her waist and rolling them both.
“Oomph, okay,” Rhian groaned, “You win.”
Shadowheart had managed to successfully pin her, a triumphant smirk on her lips. They were both breathing hard from their little bout, and Rhian was sure Shadowheart could feel her pulse racing under her grip. She held the cleric’s eyes, but before she could say anything, someone walked up next to them.
Rhian turned to look, and found herself staring up at a disapproving githyanki. “Oh, hey, Lae.”
“Chk. If you two are done rolling around in the dirt, something seems to be wrong with Minthara.”
Rhian exchanged a glance with Shadowheart, who released her wrists and sat back but didn’t move to actually get off of her. “What do you mean?”
Lae’zel gestured up towards the crumbling tower of Wyrm’s Lookout, “She headed up that way several minutes ago.”
Rhian turned to look. From her awkward spot lying on the ground, she could just make out part of Minthara’s silhouette, dark against the sky. Turning back to Lae’zel, she asked, “So why don’t you go talk to her?”
Lae’zel scowled down at her, “As the leader of our group, I believe that is your job.”
With that, she stalked off back towards her tent. “I still don’t understand how that came about,” she said to Shadowheart.
“I think that responsibility automatically goes to whoever stops everyone else from killing each other.”
“Hmm,” Rhian hummed, “I guess I know better for next time. Now, are you going to let me up?”
Shadowheart looked like she considered telling her no, then moved to stand, reaching back to help Rhian up out of the dirt. Brushing dust and gravel from her clothes, Rhian regarded Minthara, standing atop the tower. She wasn’t sure how best to approach the paladin, but figured at least making sure she was okay was a start. “Well, hopefully she doesn’t shove me off the top of it for asking.”
Shadowheart huffed a laugh, “I have a scroll of feather fall, if you want it.”
Rhian turned to look at her. “Thank you, that’s very reassuring,” she deadpanned, “Kiss for good luck?”
That earned her an eye roll, but Shadowheart pulled her in anyway, kissing her once, quick. Rhian smiled against her lips, and leaned in again for one more. When they broke apart, Shadowheart stepped back. “More when you get back,” she promised, giving her a light shove.
“I guess I can live with that,” Rhian tossed back over her shoulder, making her way across camp to the ladder that lead up to the top of the tower.
When she reached the top of the ladder, Rhian found Minthara standing at the low wall that ran the perimeter of the roof, looking down over the outskirts of the city. By now, she assumed the drow had heard her approach, but she remained silent. Taking that as enough of an invite, Rhian crossed to join her, leaning forward onto her elbows on the wall.
Finally, Minthara acknowledged her, “Yes?”
“Lae’zel said she was worried about you.”
To Rhian’s surprise, that elicited a short humorless laugh from her, “I doubt that.”
“Which part?”
That seemed to catch her off guard, and Minthara turned to face her, “What?”
“Which part?” Rhian repeated, then elaborated, “That she was worried, or that she said as much?”
Minthara narrowed her eyes at her, as if trying to assess how serious she was. Instead, she said, “If you have something to say, say it.”
Rhian took a breath, her voice somber, losing its humor, “Orin is dead. You have your vengeance, no?”
“One part of it,” she amended, “A smaller part than I had hoped.”
“Oh? You sound disheartened.”
“You know me well,” she smiled sadly, looking down.
Rhian was thrown off, this wasn’t a side she’d seen of her before.
Minthara continued, “Orin could make herself a mirror to anyone she met. A perfect physical replica, down to the slightest blemish or imperfection. It was only the surface that she imitated though. The skin and the muscle and the bone. Peel back the surface, and her madness lay beneath. She could not hide that, no matter what form she took.”
Rhian shivered at the memory of seeing Orin in Minthara’s skin, racing through the doors in the sewers. She’d certainly looked like her, but the mannerisms… the way she spoke… It had all been just slightly… off. She remembered something screaming at her that this was wrong.
“No matter how perfect the surface imitation, few would see themselves reflected in Orin’s madness. In her soul.”
Minthara paused, long enough that Rhian cast a concerned glance her way. “I did see myself there,” she admitted, “A broken version of myself, but recognizable nonetheless.”
Rhian pushed off the wall, standing straighter. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but not this… She moved to lay a hand on Minthara’s shoulder, but hesitated, thinking better of it and letting her arm drop back to her side. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, but forceful, “You’re nothing like Orin.”
“Oh, but I am. Given what we learned of her mother, I see how similar we truly are: both born of trauma, both raised by parents who protected us with one hand-“ she held out her left hand, then clenched her right in a fist,”-and tormented us with the other.”
“What was I when you first knew me? Before you ever knew me?” Minthara spun toward Rhian, moving closer until they were practically nose to nose, “A madwoman, butchering prey in the name of a god who would discard me without a thought once I was no longer of use.”
Rhian opened her mouth to argue, and stopped. She did not like the answer, but it was true. Minthara had had no qualms about raiding the Grove, sending droves of goblins out to do the Absolute’s bidding, terrorizing the Coast. It was only through sheer dumb luck that Rhian had spared her that day- delivering a non-lethal blow, and getting so caught up in helping one of her companions afterward, she hadn’t noticed the drow had not been dead.
It was only later, when the druids had gone to remove the bodies after the battle, that the goblin leader could not be accounted for, and their error found. No, Rhian thought, it had been an accident, but no error. Now, that was one thing she could be certain of.
“Bhaal, Lolth… the Absolute.” Minthara turned away, waving a hand over the city, “They do not have followers- they only have victims, and they reward devotion with death.“
She fell silent then, heaving a sigh and dropping her head. When she spoke again, she was much less adamant, as if admitting a truth she was not quite ready for. “It is only because of you that I did not meet the same fate as Orin: lost to madness and blood. If you had killed me when we first met, I would have been just one more casualty of your crusade against the Absolute.
“And no one would remember me.”
Rhian’s eyes flashed wide with the sadness in that statement. It was like she was seeing Minthara for the first time again, her soul laid bare, except instead of the imposing goblin leader barking orders and making threats, she looked… small, broken.
This time, Rhian did not hesitate. She pulled her into a hug. Minthara didn’t fight her, only went stock still for a long second, her breath catching. But she returned the embrace, fingers digging painfully into her skin, holding her just as tightly, tucking her head into the crook of Rhian’s shoulder.
Rhian wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that, her holding the smaller drow woman, but she would stay as long as she needed.
It was Minthara who finally moved first, her death grip on Rhian relaxing and she stepped back. Something in her expression had changed when she met Rhian’s eyes again. “Enough,” there was hint of amusement in her voice, a lightness, and she waved her off, “We still have a war to fight.”
Rhian smiled, “Fair enough.”
Something behind Rhian caught Minthara’s attention, her gaze landing on something beyond her. When she turned to look, Minthara said, “I believe your cleric is waiting for you.”
Shadowheart was sitting at the edge of camp, one leg pulled up on the rock she was on, discretely watching them from afar. At this distance, Rhian couldn’t parse out her expression. “So it would seem,” she agreed, “But I hope your spirits are lifted, at least a little?”
“Yes,” she’d recollected herself, standing up a little straighter, and the sharp, no-nonsense air about her had returned, “And, thank you- I owe you everything.”
Rhian dipped her head in acknowledgement, “Anything for a friend.”
Rhian turned to go, headed towards the ladder when a ridiculous thought came to mind. She paused, leaning over the side of the tower and judging the distance to the ground. She grinned, they were plenty high up… She moved back across the roof, giving herself as much space as she could.
Minthara frowned, confusion flashing across her features, “What are you-“
Rhian didn’t hear the rest of the question as she bolted forward, launching herself up and off the wall, into open air. Wind howled past her ears, and after a second, she activated her wild shape magic.
Energy surged through her, and the burn of magic raced in her veins, down into her hands, her feet. And suddenly she was flapping wings, the ground growing distant again, and she was rising on an updraft. Across camp, Shadowheart had leapt to her feet, hands raised in preparation to cast a spell, now seeing it was no longer necessary. Rhian turned back, wings beating to hold her in place, and found Minthara had followed her to the edge of the roof, leaning against the wall as though she’d been ready to attempt to catch her. A frown quickly replaced her worried expression when she saw Rhian watching her, and she shook her head. But Rhian caught the slightest bit of a smile when Minthara moved away.
Extending her wings, Rhian swooped down toward where Shadowheart waited for her. She was standing now, arms crossed. When Rhian was a few feet from the ground, she released the wild shape, the raven disappearing in a poof of feathers. She waved a hand to dispel them. Her heart was racing from the freefall, and she laughed at Shadowheart’s expression, which was quickly turning from shock to annoyance. Uh oh. “Are you insane?!”
Rhian shrugged, “Eh, only a little.”
Shadowheart pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “What,” Rhian laughed, “It’s not like that’s the craziest thing I’ve done. Besides, it was fun.”
Shadowheart shook her head; Rhian could tell she was trying hard to hold on to her annoyance, to not crack a smile, and she was failing. To speed that along, Rhian grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers, and leaned in, brushing a kiss against her lips. “Don’t think that’s going to get you out of this,” Shadowheart threatened, but there was no bite behind it.
“Out of what?” she asked, kissing her again.
Shadowheart let out a breathy laugh, “You’re impossible.”
“Mhmm,” Rhian hummed in agreement, “One of the reasons you love me, no?”
“Oh? Do I?”
Rhian pulled back, searching her face. “I mean, if you don’t…” she prodded, choosing something she knew would needle her, “I can always go see if Lae is up for spending the night- Ow.”
Shadowheart had thumped her on the shoulder before she could even voice the rest of her suggestion. “Okay, you’ve called my bluff,” she threaded her arms around Rhian’s neck, holding her close, “No need to make threats.”
“I would never.”