>>5394438>>5394299>>5394271>>5394268>>5394265You open your mouth to beseech the gods, to ask vital questions of your cosmic overlords… But they die in your throat. BY what right would you ask them? You are coming off of no great triumph, and the price of such a direct request is more than you are prepared to pay.
The moment passes. The memories fade, growing hazy and indistinct. You wake.
“Wh-where am I?” you murmur, shifting slightly.
“Do NOT,” the Novice says, with dangerous inflection, “say a WORD.”
You slowly become aware of the firm-but pliable cushioning under your head, and the sensation of shifting fat and muscle beneath a thin layer of fabric. You look up, to see the scowling face of your childhood rival turned alchemical and magical tutor. You realize your head is rested upon her thick thighs, cradled in her lap.
You are briefly at a loss.
“Who else was going to take care of your Oh-So-Kingly Self, when your stupid death-march plunged you into a gods-damned coma, you absolute nincompoop?” she demands, as if sensing your thoughts.
She drops your head on the hard stone, standing up.
“You’re obviously feeling better,” she notes brusquely. “I took the liberty of bandaging you.”
So she did. You lift your cloak, finding a sort of gauze of (presumably-sterilized) spider-silk beneath it. A brownish-red staining, tinted yellow at the edges, belies the extent of the injuries beneath, which these wrappings seek to abate and keep clean.
“You will live,” the Novice notes stuffily. “You honestly seem to have built up a resistance of sorts… The Dark Gods must smile on your foul and tainted bloodline, for reasons beyond MY understanding.”
“They must,” you acknowledge, faintly recalling a dream to that effect.
“Speaking of failed and outcast bloodlines,” the Novice mockingly segues, “the leader of these outcast elves requests your presence.”
“Jazkarmel?” you clarify, receiving a nod. “Very well.”
“Are you feeling well enough?” the Novice Fleshweaver asks, unable to hide some concern from her voice.
“I am,” you affirm, unwilling to admit otherwise—and, admittedly, you do feel better than one might expect.
