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The tieflings started their trek to Baldur's Gate that morning, leaving the adventurers to continue to work on their tadpole problem now that Halsin was free. He had a few things to clear up at the grove after Kahga's death, so the party elected to stay a few more nights before heading through the mountain pass to make a stop at the créche.
Lae'zel had grown tense since the rest of the party decided to free Halsin first, and she became more insistent about their next course of action. Faen'lea got the group to agree to go after the rescue, just in case the other Githyanki were not amenable to purifying the whole party. Now that the task was finished, the fighter was keen to get on the road.
Infighting in the party had been increasing tension, and Shadowheart was still nursing her wounded pride after she tried to ambush Lae'zel during the night. Faen, keen on the scent of adrenaline, rose from her trance before the cleric could follow through with her threats, but that didn't help tensions with Lae'zel. It had also been a tenday since they had met in a decrepit building a ways away from camp to spend the night together. Even though Faen’lea had asked the Gith if it would help relieve tensions to take another night to themselves, Lae'zel declined.
Instead, they opted to spar for an hour or two before settling down each night. This method seemed to work best for Lae'zel, and often helped with Faen's nightmare filled rest. Sometimes Karlach joined in to blow off steam while she dealt with her own pent up needs, but Lae'zel and Faen were both sparring for the same reason: bloodlust. It wouldn't help anyone's plight if they ended up killing another party member, and it was easier to beat the shit out of each other before bed than wait for something worse to happen unexpectedly during the night.
The group still didn't know about the half-naked dragonborn bard that Faen'lea had told to fuck off. They believed that the dragonborn was on her way to Baldur's Gate. None of them knew that the urges made Faen’lea chase her down during the night while barely conscious, and, like a woman possessed, tear her to shreds before dumping the body in the river.
Faen didn't want a repeat of that event, especially with anyone from the party.
So, for everyone involved, it was safer to satisfy their lust by taking it out on each other.
Now they stood, the center of camp cleared out to create a makeshift fighting ring for them. Lae'zel brandished her longsword, ready to parry Faen's attacks. The rogue lunged, dagger in each hand, swinging while she envisioned slicing the Gith's taut throat.
The bloody vision was cut by a sharpened blade blocking the knife's path. Lae'zel swiftly parried the incoming attack and shoved Faen'lea back, swinging out of the path of the off hand's arc.
Quickly, Faen jumped even further to avoid the retaliation, the tip of Lae’zel’s sword plunging into the air where she was just a few seconds before.
"Shk!" Lae'zel grunted, pulling back to circle her opponent once more.
The two women watched each other as the shadows from the flickering fire danced on the ground, blades readied for their next moves.
Far too primal to be considered a dance, their match carried on. Faen'lea's heart pounded as she watched the light flicker over Lae'zel. A bead of sweat dripped down the fighter's chin. Salivating, Faen envisioned it as a drop of blood, the desire to lick up the Gith's throat and catch it settling deep in her stomach.
Bloodlust released adrenaline into Faen'lea's system, and she surged forward, striking at Lae'zel fiercely. Twin blades sliced through the air, slashing at the Githyanki's arms. The left blade hit Lae'zel's arm, cutting a fine red line, as the right dagger struck Lae'zel's hand and twisted her sword out of her grip. The longsword dropped to the ground, clattering muffled by the loose dirt and grass underfoot. Faen stopped, form still hunched, stance still readied, waiting to see if her opponent conceded or if the fight was to continue.
Refusing to stand down, Lae'zel widened her stance, planted her feet firmly on the ground, and curled her hands into loose fists. Blood from where Faen cut her arm began to flow, dripping to the ground.
Faen licked her lips, eyes tracking the droplets as they fell.
Lae’zel deftly leapt at the rogue, catching her off guard with the speed. Blows slammed into Faen's chest, a flurry of fists as Lae'zel threw punches in quick succession. The force knocked Faen'lea back, the pressure hitting her chest taking her breath away. Lae'zel swung back, delivering a swift kick to the stomach, knocking Faen further back. She tripped on her feet, the power of the blow toppling her over. Faen fell on her back, ribs cracking as she slammed against the dirt, completely prone. Any air that remained in her lungs was forced out, a dying gasp faded into the silence of the night.
Lae'zel drew back and straightened her stance, glancing at her weapon on the ground. "Well fought, istik. But you have not bested me tonight." She leaned down to grab her sword, dusting the dirt off with her fingertips. A quick flick of her chin signaled her departure to her tent.
Faen'lea stayed on the ground for a few minutes, staring at the sky. The scent of blood still lingered in the air and mixed pleasantly with the smell of the Chionthar--a smell that was probably not appealing to anyone else but her, except maybe for Lae'zel.. Probably not appealing to anyone else, except maybe Lae'zel.
The Gith's footsteps faded to silence and Faen'lea turned her head to track Lae'zel's form back to her tent. She took a breath in, letting the familiar feeling fall over her. The desire to hunt, stalk the prey to their home, join the fighter in her tent. Perhaps she would, right in camp, in front of everyone.
Faen settled into the fantasy, imagining wrapping a hand around Lae'zel's neck and grabbing her arm with the other. She pictured slowly pushing the githyanki down, climbing over her and forcing her lower. Throwing a leg across her waist and pulling the wounded limb up to sniff it. Faen'lea rolled her head back and closed her eyes, waiting for the urge to come. The one where she would begin to push her hand harder, forcing Lae'zel's throat into the ground, pushing while skin strained and blood vessels popped.
The elf opened her eyes, taking in another breath of the night air. All that was in her head was Lae'zel's smirk as Faen laid over her, her gasps as the elf leaned down and kissed up her neck.
Unusual.
She sighed and sat up from the ground, pulling herself up to her feet, and began to shuffle off to her makeshift tent in the rock alcove near Shadowheart's tent.
Perhaps the urges were just part of the tadpole infection; she hadn't blacked out and came to surrounded by dead bodies in a couple days. She was even able to shove them down and refuse to give in. There was no way to prove that it wasn't the dream guardian's protection keeping the thoughts at bay.
Faen laid down on the piled up bedrolls, courtesy of the boxes in the abandoned village and the grove. Summer was too warm to sleep with blankets, so the wool and leather were more than enough to cushion the ground. She pulled off her boots, not bothering with the laces, and settled in for the night.
As the effects of her trance took hold, the Faen let her memories drift back to the spar, picking up right where she left off, fantasizing about Lae'zel's carotid artery.
Lae'zel laying with her eyes closed, the rogue moving silently so as to not give away her next move. Faen covering her prey with her body, jaw tensed with feral intention. Sinking down, going for the throat, nipping roughly at green skin splayed out in front of her. Feeling the skin stretch and capillaries burst beneath it. Forceful enough to leave a mark, exhibiting all her fine teeth. Smiling at her work as it slowly blooms into a bruise.
She must make another.
Faen'lea imagines moveing lower, her teeth continuing to pepper bites and marks across the githyanki's skin. Lae'zel's sternum, firm and strong, laying ready for someone to crush it. Moving lower still, licking down the flat bone. Just as she was commanded to nights ago, Faen pictures kissing across Lae’zel's abdominal muscles and hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her pants.
A flash, and the vision was ruined by the image of pale scales and a dragonborn's body.
Faen'lea jolted out of her trance as she recalled the memory. Thoughts of the bard clouded her mind, recalling the scent of the blood that was spilled from the bard's body.
She didn't even remember the poor girl's name.
Quickly pushing the thought away, Faen focused on Lae'zel. Lae'zel. Lae'zel, of Crèche K'liir. That part she repeated often. Faen regained control of her breathing as she repeated her companion's name. At least she could remember Lae'zel's. Her own true name was lost to her shattered mind; she just used a nickname the group had given her because of the bloodlust.
Centered and calm again, Faen laid back down, thinking between the gith and the dragonborn. The bard had been sickly sweet, in life and in death. But her thoughts of Lae'zel were different. She thought of Lae'zel chastising her when they trained, about battling alongside the fighter, about being commanded to taste. The githyanki was a delightfully different meal than the bard was.
Odd. The visions seemed to let Lae'zel keep all of her limbs attached.
Maybe it was the guardian's protection, perhaps it was just the presence of such a skilled fighter. For the first time that she could actually remember, Faen'lea didn't want to dismember her companion. It was a welcome feeling after the past days of bloodshed and violence that plagued her thoughts.
The elf laid back down, thinking about the past few days of sparring. That might be it; the urges were weaker and easier to fight since they had started. Lae'zel probably wouldn't mind if the bloodlust never went away; she would still stand by Faen through it.
She sighed. It was nice to think about no longer having to struggle, but odd thinking about staying with her companion for longer than it took to get rid of the tadpoles. The weird feeling settled deep in Faen's chest, and she couldn't push it away any further.
Grunting, the elf rolled over, trying to settle into a trance again. Whatever this shit was, it was probably the tadpole's doing, like how the dying mindflayer had tried to get her to sympathize before she crushed its skull. The group should set out for the crèche as soon as they could. Maybe the answers to fixing these feelings would be there.
Faen'lea finished throwing the waste from the morning's breakfast in the river and moved a couple yards upstream. Lae'zel already stood there, replaiting the small braids in her hair after her wash up. Faen squatted down to wring her hands in the water, rinsing off the grease and crumbs, and looked up at her companion.
"Since we are going to start making our way to the crèche today, do you think there is any chance of us coupling up again before we get there?" Faen asked, doing her best to hide the shaky feeling in her stomach.
Lae'zel scoffed, flicking her finished hair back over her shoulder. "You have been looking at me with lidded eyes since that night. Do not think it has gone unnoticed. You are not as subtle as you may think you are, rogue."
Faen smiled as she stood. She took a step closer to the githyanki, standing slightly too close. "Subtlety isn't always what I'm going for."
The fighter squinted, looking up at the rogue as the taller woman loomed over her. "Very well, we shall meet together later."