Chapter Text
“Well,” he says, smile bright underneath the gold-rimmed red-tinted spectacles, “it’s not much, but I do have another little something for you, Marla.”
In her fuzzy periphery, a gray fist takes yet another swing at Ace’s face, who, after the last four swings, has ceased reacting at all. Whatever card he’d selected from the magical deck had hardened his skin and made him seemingly impervious to Nessa’s mighty blows, which given Marla’s experiences, is actually quite an impressive feat. Anyone would gawk at how the lean elf shrugs off punches that would pulp any normal person’s face into an unidentifiable mess.
To her other side, Doc snickers as he pulls at the cuffs of his suit jacket; the sleeves now too short for how he suddenly shot up over half of a foot in height. That magical deck of cards Alonso awarded to the party for solving his little competition puzzle deigned to give her three party members significant effects (Nessa claims to be an intellectual now), but nothing noticeable to her.
“Oh, really?” She leans forward somewhat, interest easily piqued by the unexpected gesture. Marla wasn’t sure if her incredibly obvious flirtations were making any sort of headway at all, though she had no plans to sulk if they never panned out. Of course, it’s always most fun with interest returned, and everyone has different tastes. “That’s mighty kind of you.”
There’s an ow as Nessa makes a final valiant attempt by smashing her forehead against the newly reinforced wood elf, and Marla winces at the blood that starts to run from the barbarian’s nose. She’ll have to patch that up shortly, though thankfully Nessa ceases in her experimental rampage. Ace gives her a sympathetic pat as she squeezes her eyes shut and rides out the pain of the impact.
Her attention returns to the musician before her as he draws out a box from the table beside him.
“You were so excited to roll the dice and it was a shame to see you draw such an unexciting card amongst all your friends. Now, it’s nothing as crazy as the deck, just a little trinket to grant you some protection. Given all the mercenary work you all get up to, I’m sure it’ll be quite useful for a pretty lady such as yourself.” Alonso flips the lacquered lid up to reveal a delicate silver chain, complete with a black gem pendant.
Now, the silver doesn’t match at all with the gold she’s draped in, but the craftsmanship looks quite impressive, and the gem is cut perfectly . Still not her current style, but it would match her usual clerical equipment quite well. Not to mention the protective qualities it allegedly has, which, after nearly dying to whatever horrid creature was inhabiting that magical laboratory, sounds quite helpful. She glances briefly again towards Ace, his skin now cut with shallow grooves resembling the bark of a tree. Getting defenses like that without having to look so… textured… would be preferable. Which, well, she technically does, but more couldn’t hurt, y’know?
And, of course, it would be rude to not accept a gift from such a socially powerful man as Alonso, not only enviously theatrical but also the host of this very gala! As a guest and as a woman who loves attention, she smiles, pleased. The man in question reclines in a languid manner, his emerald suit sparkling as Marla takes the pendant from him to clasp around her neck. He dips his chin encouragingly, light glinting across his glasses, perhaps approving of how it looks. Somehow, she’s yet to see his eyes even once through the entire night.
It takes a moment for her to grasp what is actually happening. Distant, forgotten pain prickles in at the tips of her fingers and toes. She blinks, looking down at herself in confusion as the discomfort spreads, climbing up her limbs and leaving a tremor in her hands. A second later and the agony envelops her, aching her chest from wounds long since inflicted and healed. Whatever last remnants of her prior, pleasant high disappear at her collarbone, where the black gem now sits.
“What in the hells?” She chokes out, reaching for the chain. Her shaking fingers can barely grasp the clasps and even when they do the silver refuses to cooperate, unbending. Panic sets in as the pain intensifies, overriding every sensation in her body. Her vision blurs and then she’s on her hands and knees, curling in on herself before she’s then fully on her side, nails clawing at her neck to no avail. The necklace won’t come off! She hardly realizes she’s screaming until she has to pause to suck in a pained breath. From her tilted perspective on the ground, Alonso takes a calm sip from his glass.
“Yep,” he says, the smile never leaving his face. His voice is somehow distant as he cocks his head. “I fucking hate the Boundaries’ Bandits.”
Delayed in her pain, Marla hurries to chant a spell, but it dissipates instantly as Alonso snaps his finger.
“None of that, Marla dear. This is for the best. I’m trying to help ,” he says, completely unbothered. “That’s a periapt of proof against poison. Quite valuable, actually, and with that, we’ll be able to cure you of your felicity issue in no time.”
Dread fills her bones, right alongside the hatred that begins to burn.
Some measure of conversation begins as Ace, Doc, and Nessa exclaim in confusion and ask questions, but she’s barely aware of it. Every nerve is on fire and what little space left in her mind to think fills quickly with fear at the few words she manages to catch.
“You know there’s a difference between a cultist and an addict ,” Ace says, the slightest trepidation in his voice.
“She tried to make a business deal to sell felicity to my partner, Ace,” Alonso answers, “and if you’re looking to sell, that means you know where to get a lot more . There’s definitely way more going on than just addiction .”
Another wave of pain crests across her body and she writhes, her head pounding.
“I see she doesn’t have that shit up here,” the bard adds, gesturing to his neck where most of her associates wear their brands proudly, “but who knows if that marking is somewhere else or just obscured by magic? Anyway, I just want to help her with her little problem.” Vaguely, Marla can make out the image as he conjures some illusory creature. She blinks through the stinging tears and her breath catches again at the gruesome sight. Spindly, ghastly, and with hooked arms extending from its torso, it paints a grisly picture, one she doesn’t understand. “This is what happens to people who go too far on felicity. Get them hooked and take away the source, well, this is what you get, and that’s no good for Marla.”
A different sensation draws her attention as she scrambles towards the corner, panicked and afraid. A heat licks across her skin, different from the pain, and her eyes widen as the lights dim. The conversation falls off, concern on Alonso’s face as darkness fills the room. Just a moment later and the shadows recede, revealing an imposing figure standing before her, shielding her from everyone else.
Relief and shame together fill her. She’d never wanted to pull him from his duties like this, but the inky substance that swims in her flesh connects them enough for him to know when she’s in true distress. And by Borol, this is extreme distress . Everyone’s turned on her. Even Nessa hasn’t come to her aid; meaning they all want her to experience this world-ending agony. Through her tears she gasps and smiles weakly. No matter what, at least he would never let this happen to her, he’d never leave her to suffer like her late husband. He’ll save her and finally , finally, end this pain.
His horns barely brush the ceiling as he stands his full height, some fourteen to fifteen feet tall, his gaze sweeping the room at horrified faces.
“Well,” he says, somewhat casual, “not sure what’s going on here, but it seems my associate’s in danger. I’ll be taking her and then be on my way.”
“Oh, hell no,” Alonso says quickly, springing up. Marla blinks as the man brandishes a scroll.
Just as quickly as he appeared, the demon vanishes.
Banished .
Instantly, all of her hope is extinguished. She stares at where he stood just a second ago, unwilling to believe that he’s gone . Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Her fists slam into the floor as her screams return anew, her throat aching alongside every other part of her body.
For all she knows, the pain will never, never end.
When her emotions finally settle into a simmer some moments later, she lifts her head to glare at the cause of all her despair: Alonso, who continues to converse with the rest of her party while effortlessly batting away all her attempted spells. Now she understands exactly why his old friend deigned to intentionally lie to him so long ago and end his little romance so prematurely. Whatever sympathies she held for his sad backstory are gone; he’s a snake, through and through, and anyone in their right mind would do their utmost to keep him away from their loved ones.
And the others, too, easily debating about whether to keep the cursed item locked on her neck, as if she weren’t even present. Whether she’s forced to remain here for some indeterminate amount of time, for gods-knows-why.
Don’t they all know she doesn’t have all the time in the world? Her daughter is out there, by herself! Marla’s teeth clench; she’ll set out to find Tavi by herself if she must.
“So you’ll all be staying here,” he says, “until we can finish her rehabilitation .”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Nessa returns nervously.
“As for you, Marla,” the bard says, addressing her, “let’s get you into another room. A lead-lined room, perhaps, so you won’t be having any more of those little escape attempts. And, of course, no other hellish giants teleporting into my city .”
“ Fuck you ,” she swears, staggering up to her feet. She’s only able to stay upright thanks to the walls she’s able to lean on. He sends her a glance, the corner of his lip curling up into a smirk.
“Maybe when you’re all better, darling,” he says with a casual gesture, “but for now…”
Marla hisses, a beast backed into a corner, and lunges . She may be unarmed, it doesn’t matter. Golden heels digging into the carpet, she sprints the short distance and winds her arm back.
As a halfling woman, there’s no better target for her to hit other than the crown jewels, which are at perfect eye level. Alonso’s voice hitches through a groan as he doubles over, his glass shattering on the floor as it slips from his fingers.
“Oh, ow, oh no,” he coughs in a tight voice, “that’s not good.”
Whatever he’s feeling is a fraction of a percentage of Marla’s pain, and she wants nothing more than for him to writhe in agony, but she barks a laugh of satisfaction. With her line of work, she’s definitely got more than enough muscle to make it hurt.
Unfortunately, the brief adrenaline keeping her upright is already fading, and she drops again to a knee, gritting her teeth as the world swims around her. Pain, pain, everything is pain all over again, and everyone here is against her.
“Very feisty. We’re going to need to restrain her,” Alonso’s voice filters in from above, “come on, Marla. Like I said, this is all for your own good.”
Fuck, fuck.
Fuck.
