This tiny elf has a fragile appearance, thin and spry. The thick locks of her dark brown hair are usually messily tangled, long bangs falling across her face and curling over her cheeks. There are a few notable features that set her apart – one being the eyepatch that covers the empty socket of her left eye; the other being a nasty burn scar that rings the left half of her neck. She moves with a careless grace, her gaze sometimes hawkish, sometimes distant, and both smiles and frowns come easily to her lips.
BACKGROUND
Though she is always ready and willing to hear the stories of others, it is a rare occasion that she speaks in any depth (or for that matter, truth) about herself. There are a few things that she will tell to those who are curious: she was born in the great and terrible city of Calimport – a desert port known for its luxury and depravity, as well as its thriving slave trade. Whatever her lot was in that city is something she keeps to herself, but it is apparent she eventually left its sandy streets for other lands.
Somewhere in her travels – a somewhere around Cormyr, it would seem – she was swallowed by the Land of the Mists, taken prisoner like so many others in the strange and cruel world of Ravenloft. The things that befell her there can only be guessed at, but her scars mark her as a survivor of something – or many somethings – terrible.
It was a slow process. The first thing she became aware of was the gentle rise and fall of her chest as her lungs inflated with each deep, steady breath. The second was a hard ache in the back of her head and a throbbing at her temple. The third was the sensation of her fingers twitching against something cold and solid, firm and unyielding beneath her touch.
...what...
Her stomach churned as she struggled to open her eyes – her eye? – a trembling hand lifting to press over her forehead. She brushed a few locks of hair from her face, her fingers exploring the cloth patch that obscured her left eye, studying its texture in an exploratory manner. She couldn't quite remember why she was wearing such a thing...
The thought and its accompanying memories skittered from her grasp, lips parting as she took a deep breath. Her eye opened a sliver, a dizzying blur of colors meeting her gaze. She pushed herself slowly up, propped against her elbow, her chest heaving with a shuddering gasp. The colors twisted like writhing snakes, a swirl of motion. She could only barely make out the edges of things, where the hues met and clashed.
Sound came next. Muted at first, but growing fast stronger. A few whispers and murmurs here and there, a scrape and a clink and an electric buzz. Then sizzling sounds, shouts, loud calls, the bustle of strange footsteps, the rustle of clothing, the flutter of a dry breeze, the creak of old wood, the snorting breath of – of something, and voices. Voices. Voices. Voices.
“...where...?” Her voice was a dry rasp, clawing its way painfully up her throat. She released a strained grunt, rubbing her fingers against her pounding forehead. She squeezed her eye shut for a brief moment, then reopened it, desperately trying to form shapes from the whirling colors that encompassed her.
Smells hit her now. Strong and myriad – scents she had never in her travels encountered, scents she had never even imagined. Scents she couldn't even form words to describe. Both pleasant and putrifying, they sliced through her bowels. She turned to the side and wretched, dry heaving onto... onto...?
A road. Yes, a road. Cobbled stones firm beneath her fingers. She heaved again as the shapes formed, as the colors solidifyed, the sounds and smells intensified. When had anything ever been so loud? So overwhelmingly... alive?
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her head lifted, tilted. Her heart stood still.
There were not enough questions in the world to encompass her utter confusion.
She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as her body submerged in the warm water. Her eye slipped shut, the tangled locks of her hair floating on the surface of her water, curled around her shoulders. Dirt and flecks of dried blood colored the clear water a murky, muddy red, but she paid the filth no mind. Silence settled over her thoughts, calming the pattering of her heart and soothing her ragged nerves. She could still hear the distant bustle of the inn below and the vast, sprawling city beyond, but it was a muffled sound, easily ignored in her exhausted state. Her muscles ached, her head throbbed.
What in the world happened...?
She slipped deeper into the water, leaning back with a low grunt. She felt like she was forgetting something important – like she was missing some integral part of her being. She felt strangely incomplete, weak, her mind fuzzy. Her thoughts ran in circles, or went nowhere at all. A maze of dead ends and confusion.
One eye drifted open, her hand lifting to brush over the empty socket of the other. Memories flitted on the edges of her consciousness – hard stone, spiderwebs, sharp steel, darkness. Shadows.
Shadows.
Her mind hooked onto the word, her head turning to the side, observing the room with idle thoughtfulness. There was something important there, if only she could grasp it.
The thought slipped away beneath another wave of exhaustion. She scrubbed her tender fingers over her skin, scratching caked mud and less pleasant things free. She would worry about all of that later. For now, there was too much to do, too much to see, too much to learn. A whole new world she had been tossed in the midst of, unwillingly or otherwise.
The tiny elf swung her arms at her side as she stepped down the cobbled roads, hopping lightly over puddles and dancing around milling crowds. Her eye glazed over the thousand strange sights she came across, stranger with every turn of the corner. In the span of a single day she had nearly managed to completely suspend her disbelief, though a large slice of her still carried the suspicion that she had died and this was some curious dream her slipping mind had concocted. There was no point being shocked by everything she saw; there was simply too much of it.
Don't think. Don't think.
These were the words that rang in her mind – a constant litany that kept her barely sane. When the wolf started speaking, licking her in farewell, she simply smiled and scratched her fingers through the creature's hair. When the Kaorti reached out strange, tentacled fingers to tie her hair back, she simply laughed, as if it were some great joke. She struck up conversations with illithids and demons, ascended and otherwise. She spotted zombies shuffling the streets alongside strange, mechanical creatures that emitted an electric buzzing sound as they passed. She spoke with Drow at length about the world she now occupied, accepting gifts and promises. She took a meal cooked by a vampire and chatted as light-heartedly as if that were the most normal thing one could imagine.
All the while her head spun, twisting around in confused circles, trying to catch at anything that made sense in this upside-down world.
Don't think. Don't think.
There was nothing to think about, after all. This was simply the way things were. What could she do about it, but move forward, but live, but learn? And in the end, this place might suit her just fine...
If only she could remember how she got here. If only she could remember what memories hid beneath the fog of her puzzled mind. What had she forgotten that plagued her so? Like a faint whispering in the back of her head, barely heard and impossible to fully make out...
She ducked around a massive lizard-creature (she couldn't possibly think of the names of every manner of things she encountered), flicking her fingers across her forehead in haphazard salute as it hissed impatiently at her. Now wasn't the time to worry about that – or anything, really.
She rolled the word around her tongue as if to taste the syllables. The idea intrigued her – a people who's goal in life was simply to live, to experience. The thought of recording those experiences was another matter entirely: an intrusion into something deeply private. She wondered that they had the courage or the abandon to do such a thing – to put their memories on display for all to see. To feel.
Leaning back in her seat, she passed a hand over her forehead. She was feeling strangely feverish today, her skin hot and clammy, a headache pulsing within her skull. A strange sensation, as if something were trying to claw its way out of her head. Words floated through her mind – words that man had said.
Shadows.
Mist.
Tsuika?
...Shy'nar...
Her headache intensified, her shoulders hunching upwards. She pressed the tips of her fingers to her forehead with a soft growl, pushing herself irritably from her chair and pacing a few steps forward. With a sharp flick of her wrist she dismissed the jumble, taking a deep breath and refocusing her attention on her surroundings.
Making her way between fellow patrons, she stepped up to the bar, rummaging in her pouch for a few coins of various shapes and sizes. Honestly speaking, she had no idea how much they were worth, but usually if you threw a big enough pile at someone, they would give you what you wanted regardless. She flashed the innkeep a quick, tense smile and took a bowl of salad in return for her payment.
This looks familiar, at least. Green. That must count for something. She poked her fork through the leafy morsels, tilting her head fractionally to the right. It looked edible, which was more than could be said for half the other items on the menu. She wasn't particularly hungry either way, simply in need of a distraction.
Inclining her head to the innkeep, she turned on her heel, hopping off the raised platform and making her way across the room, pack and pouches jingling with each step. She had picked up a myriad of odds and ends – all sorts of random items the denizens of this city had told her were useful. A shovel, for instance.
Forking the first bite of greens into her mouth, she shouldered her way up the stairs, turning for the first room available in the hallway. She pushed it open without paying much mind, busy pushing another mouthful between her lips, stepping forward. She squeezed her eye shut with a startled squeak as a flicker of light and strange, tingling sensation washed over her. Stumbling a bit, her feet sunk in something shifting.
“What the--”
Her mouth dropped open, her fork falling from limp fingers back into the bowl, head tilting back.
A vast expanse of ocean stretched before, lit by a pinkish golden hue that suffused the sky. Rolling beaches spread beneath her feet, the sweet scent of salt and flowers meeting her nose. Warm light settled against her cheeks as a gentle breeze tugged at her hair, teasing it over her shoulders. Silence.
Silence. But for the gentle ebb and flow as the waves met the shore. But for the rustle of wind and the occasional quiet call of some unknown creature. But for the sound of her breathing pushed to and from her lungs. The beat of her heart rushing in her ears.
A smile curled her lips upwards, her headache receding as she observed her surroundings, nose crinkling in a small display of wry amusement.
Well, if I had to end up somewhere, I suppose it could be far worse than this. She rolled her eyes upwards, slowly and carefully backing up through the portal from which she came.
In the far corners of her mind, she could almost swear she heard someone laughing...
Her thoughts wandered as she curled beneath the sheets, the warm cloth soft against her skin, the familiar weight of his arm wrapped around her. She nuzzled against his chest, breathing deep of his scent – that musky smell of sweat and leather that was distinctly masculine in nature. She felt secure in his presence, despite the memories twisting in the maze of her mind. Memories she had thought lost in the haze, now rushing to the forefront of her thoughts. A myriad of experiences, both sour and sweet, teasing her with their details.
Why won't you answer me...?
Her shadow. He whom she had danced so many nights with, slipping down the muddy roads, darting past the glowing eyes of wolves as they prowled the hills and forests in search of prey. He whom had kept her safe within the walls of the Gray City where the were-rats roamed the alleys and ruled the sewers. He who had whispered in her ear for the past two years, guiding her steps and guarding her heart.
She felt helplessly bare without his hissing laughter to fill the silence. Only the sound of her breathing, and that of the man who pressed close to her. A man she had thought long lost to her. A man intimately familiar to her, and yet a stranger still. A man who had lived a lifetime without her while she struggled within the Mists. While burning knives invaded her flesh, while men poked and prodded her like some wretched beast, crushing her bones beneath heavy boots, cutting her, breaking her, scarring her.
A shudder passed through her body, the blood draining from her face, leaving her pale and dizzy. Images flooded her mind. She remembered. She remembered. The cell in which they kept her, cold and dank and filled with dust and dirt, spiderwebs glittering across the cracked walls. Her open wounds left to rot in the putrid air, maggots devouring her dead and dying flesh as she lay in her own bile and blood. She remembered the boot that crushed her face, breaking her nose and sending blood pouring into her already beleaguered lungs until she coughed red foam from dry lips. She remembered the hand grasping her hair, jerking her back as a thumb pressed into her bruised and beaten flesh, pushing, pushing, until pus oozed from the wound and her eye popped within her socket, liquid and useless.
She swallowed her cries, her body tensing. Carefully, very carefully, she pushed the memories aside, filing them away. She would sort through it all at a later time. When her shadow returned to watch over her, as he always had. She just had to find him first...
Relaxing, she tilted her head back a bit to regard the tired face of the man who shared his bed with her. He was aged, a number of lines marring his face that she didn't remember from their time together, back in the Land of Mists. She wondered in what ways he had changed, in what ways he remained the same. She reached up a hand to gently trace the scar across his chin, her touch light, careful not to wake him.
Don't get too attached... She warned herself. His duty will always come first. And besides...
She smiled faintly as she stood in the doorway, peeking into the candlelit room. Her gaze was greeted by a sight so familiar it hurt, her heart clenching in her chest, aching beneath her ribs. There he sat, a myriad of books and papers spread around him, his back bent over his work as he dutifully scrawled his notes. Though his face had taken new lines and his mind was filled with memories unknown to her, he was much the same man she had known.
It was she that had changed.
He had met her unscathed – back when the Land of Mists was a place of mystery and excitement, before it had sought to twist and harm her. He had met her before the knives of men had sliced her skin, their ambition burning her flesh. He had met her then, before she had known the cost of doing what was “right”.
She had tried. So very hard, she had tried. Tried to take up a cause that was “good”, tried to fight for something bigger than herself. And in return for her struggles, she had recieved nothing but pain. Pain, pain, pain. Pain for her, and for those she cared for.
That flicker of desire to make the world a better place had since dulled. She had no intention of ever returning to the Mists, nor even those friends she had left behind within it. A second chance had been presented her, and she intended to grasp it with all her might. Let Shy'nar fight his wars, as he always had. She was going to live.
A soft sigh brushed between her parted lips, her gaze shifting from the man's bent figure to the shadows that danced over the floor, excited by the candles' flickers. Her expression took on a thoughtful cast, tinged with stubborn determination. The silence was painfully disorienting, that loss of connection a yawning void that threatened to swallow her whole. It had been over two years since she had first made her bond with the shadow, and this was the first they had been parted.
A smile curled her lips upwards, her eye fluttering shut for the briefest of moments as her head tilted back, silvery rays of moonlight falling across her cheeks. The shadows here were long and ever-present, and she could hear their quiet whispering, incomprehensible, dancing just at the edges of her senses.
But there he was. His voice, hissing in her ear. Far distant still, but present.
There you are...
Here I have always been, foolish child. Your incompetence knows no bounds, that it took you so long to find me.
Her eye flicked back open, her smile twisting upwards into a crooked, toothy grin, her heart jumping in her chest. A subdued laugh pushed through her crinkled nose as her gaze traveled their surroundings. A vast land dotted with murky pools of water and glittering, luminescent flowers. A breeze brushed past her, tugging at the tall fronds of grass and whispering across the uneven fields of soft, moist ground.
“Here we are.” She turned as the man stepped through the shimmering portal behind her, his cane tenderly pushing into the ground. His voice was light-hearted and carefree, a joke ever at the tip of his tongue and a good-natured grin on his lips. She offered him a smile, bright and filled with warmth and deep, overwhelming happiness. A smile that lit up her face, coloring her cheeks and glittering in her eye. It was a shame he couldn't see it.
***
Her shadow whispered in her ear as she slipped down alleyways quickly becoming familiar, her gaze searching over the milling crowds and bustling mobs for the white-haired man she knew so well, and yet not at all. Confidence had straightened her spine and pushed her shoulders back, chin tilting upwards.
Leave him. He will try to rid you of me, her shadow warned. His voice sounded as if it came from somewhere far distant, the barest of murmurs. It was a struggle to hear him over the cacophony of the streets, though somehow his meaning always reached her.
He won't. He already said he won't.
And you believe him?
I trust him.
Her smile faltered as she remembered him standing before the inn, a basket in his hand, his gaze seeking her face and then abruptly shifting away again. Her brows knit together, creasing her forehead.
Her shadow's laughter was sharp and mocking, sending a shudder down her spine.
Shadows stretched across the room, dancing to the flickering of candlelight. Somewhere, in the far corners of her mind, she could hear them singing – howling some mournful hectic song, impossible to comprehend. Her head tilted fractionally to the right as she listened, her weight settling back against the chair as a soft sigh brushed between her parted lips.
She sat by the table. In front of her, atop it, rested two plates, two bowls, and two glasses of wine. It had been a long time since she had prepared a meal in a kitchen and not over a campfire. She had been curious to try it out, and perhaps a little eager to make up for the previous day. In the end, though, she had still made stew with a side of bread and cheese – the exact same sort of thing she might have cooked on the road, beneath the stars, a fire roaring at her feet. It was a nostalgic smell, spices and meat wafting in the steamy air.
That steam had long since cooled, the food growing steadily colder and colder, congealing into a thick paste in the bowls. There was nothing appetizing about cold stew.
With another small sigh, she pushed herself up, her chair scraping against the floorboards. She picked up the bowls, carrying them towards the kitchen.
“Might as well clean up then,” she murmured with a faint smile, shoulders hunching upwards in a shrug.
