Men of Taste

[good_taste]

The throbbing headache behind Astarion's left eye is terrifying, as is everything else. He can't move, trapped in a horribly warm, slimy pod. The whole place is shaking, roaring, chunks of the walls are falling away, there's black and red and smoke and brimstone--of course! They're going on a jaunt through the Hells. Why not! It wasn't as if tonight could get any worse.

Thralls battle shrieking imps while he tries to free himself, to reach for his dagger, something. He's not going to go from one devil's playing to some other's snack.

He's almost got an arm free, when everything lurches toward a direction he can't even name, and suddenly a scintillating, rainbow light blasts through the cracks in the walls. What in--?

Another lurch, a blast, and the outside is obscured by thick smoke that smells like burning fish of all things.

And there's the stomach-churning feeling of falling. Oh f--

--

Astarion comes to with a gasp, and a few coughs, possibly because his body can't quite believe he still has lungs at all. He's been thrown clear of the pod, thank the gods. But he can't lie here feeling sorry for himself, he can feel heat on his face, the fire he saw must be--

He opens his eyes to blue sky.

He's up in a flash, panicked, but... He's not burning. He's standing in sunlight, and it feels... good.

He looks down at his hands, at the shadows cast by them on the rubble. He hadn't even remembered what sunlight felt like. It feels warm. Powerful. Real.

Something has to ruin the moment, of course. Movement behind him, within the wreck. He climbs up and out of the deep scar left by the crash, finding a vantage point to watch from.

Oh. Those two. The mindflayer thralls. Why they're now killing the little scuttling, slimy brain-beasts is beyond him, but he can't overpower them both. And he still needs to know what happened to him. He needs a plan.

And by the time they've finished off the creatures, he's got one. "Hey! Over here!"

It's not the best plan, but he's made do with worse.

Comments

[good_taste]

Astarion glances over at Shen Luguang, as he tests the feel of another prospective addition to the wardrobe. Gods, the silks here are almost scandalously fine. "What, like Drizzt Do'Urden, Mordenkainen--" oh that's a big spider "--Lolth, Strahd von Zarovich... Any bells ringing?"

Well, a spider would explain the silks.

He's allowed to eat bugs. Maybe he could--?

Ugh, no. That one can talk.

Fine, he'll just go back to assembling a look that will go well with his skin, and what he thinks the color of his eyes probably is.

[broodofone]

Your parasite stirs as he speaks. You recognize those names, somehow. Flashes of gossip and portraits from a faraway land that find resonance in half-remembered texts and idols in crowded shrines. Cuī Zhànshì, A heroic demon swordsman and disciple of Jiǔtiān Xuánnǚ, white-haired and black-skinned. One that clawed his way up from ancestral curse to a virtuous life. Huīyīng Fǎshī, a great scholar and associate of Jīnfǎ Gēshǒu. A stern immortal, robed like his gray eagle namesake.

The pale man's eyes widen at the sight of the spider, another name tumbling from him--Luō Sī, a great demon that dwells in the hungry dark below the world, spinning webs of treachery and malice. A creature worshiped as a dark goddess.

The list ends with another odd figure. Shǒuàn Zhǔ, blood-drenched demon lord of a land untouched by sunlight. There's the slightest tinge of desire that clings to the name.

The connection fades before his mind can tell you why.

[xiaoxiuya]

A less dignified man might squeal with glee, or even do a little dance, but Shen Luguang is above such things. He merely places a hand decorously over his mouth, his eyes sparkling with delight, and once he's mastered himself he says simply, "My friend, I think you were onto something before, when you suggested that these things might be put to good use. I think they could be very useful indeed, if made safe and properly controlled."

Then he smiles mysteriously and turns to see what mischief Liu Feiyu's gotten up to.