Sigil Bazaar - Three Days Ago
After the meaningless exorcism and the questioning of Raifael, Animus returns to the bazaar. Upon reaching the outer wall of Khazeet's bar, he notices Kalina speaking with Legault. Seeing no sign of the strange Zeke, the chance to speak with her and clear up some of his suspicions of her and Zeke's odd relationship is very tempting, but he had more urgent matters to attend to.
Walking counter-clockwise past the outer perimeter wall, Animus continues on his way to the herbalist, Layla. As soon as she spots him, she cackles and gives her usual lewd wink to the paladin. “Well… well… if it ain’t the Sunite sod come to pay luscious Layla a visit. Wot’s ye pleasure?” she asks with a “seductive” sway of her hips.
A sight that would send most men running, Animus merely sighs quietly, stoically enduring Layla’s usual behavior. Didn’t someone file a harassment charge against her? He clears his thought of the questions after he approaches. “Do you remember that blanket you wove for me?”
“The present fer Kelth?” Layla’s face changes from its usual vanity into something more comely. “The fabric of dreams… one of my greatest works…” Her visage becomes almost grandmotherly, revealing a deeply hidden beauty within.
Animus smiles and recalls when he had first seen this side of Layla. “I need another one made. This time for an adult.”
Layla blinks and the beauty fades. “Wot?! An adult?! Do ye have any idea wot you ask?” She incredulously looks up at the Aasimar. “Weaving dreams ain’t no simple task, berk! A baby blankie is one ting but a full sized blanket?”
“But it can be done?”
A calculating grin paints Layla’s face, “Yes… it can be done…” She walks right up to Animus, and then reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck. She pulls herself up until her face is fright in front of his, her acrid breath pouring across his face. “But… the fabric of dreams can only be woven at night and must be devoid of any nightmare. That’s no easy task in Sigil.” Her right hand grips like a vice to his neck while she frees her left hand to dance along his face, playing with his eyebrows. She smiles “seductively.” “Let’s just say there ain’t no amount of jink that could cover the cost… take my meaning?”
Animus closes his eyes as Layla toys with his hair while her foul breathe assaults his nose. It doesn’t take long for him to come to a decision. “Very well.” His arms wrap around her as he gently lifts the hag into his harms.
Layla cackles with delight and points, “That way.” He silently nods and follows her directions into the dark of the approaching night.
LaylaÂ’s House - Two Hours Later
Animus’ body is wracked with pain as he lies nude in the dirty bed. The sweat pouring from his body burns at the many bite wounds that now lace his chest. While Layla hadn’t devoured him like most of her kind, she had insisted on being allowed a “taste”. After several minutes, he plants his hands by his sides and lifts himself up into a sitting position. He winces as he sees the blood seep down his body from the many open wounds.
For a brief moment, angers enter him and his glowing amber eyes turn to glare at Layla in the dark, but his face softens as he sees her working at her magic loom. As her feet move the pedals and her right hand reaches up to somehow pluck thread out of thin air to be fed into the loom by her left hand, she once again adopts the gentle visage from before. She looks like a very old and very tired woman as she gracefully weaves the dreams into fabric.
With AnimusÂ’ anger diffused, he reaches into the pack lying next to the bed, pulls out a healing kit, and silently tends to his wounds as she works. Once he is properly treated and bandaged, he gathers his scattered clothing, dresses himself, and then gathers his armor. A half hour later he arises, fully geared once more.
“It will be finished by morning,” Layla softly speaks, seeming to be lost in a waking dream. “Come back for it then.”
Animus walks over, admiring LaylaÂ’s work as her fingers glide across the loom. He leans down and gently kisses her brow. Though her fingers and hands continue to work, her face cants up to give him a bewildered look.
“Beauty is more than skin deep. It issues from the core of one's being and reveals one's true face to the world, fair or foul.” Animus genuinely smiles, “As you are now in this moment, I find you more fair than most that I have seen.”
Layla blinks and she is forced to bring the loom to a slow halt. Her lips move but nothing comes from her mouth, completely astounded by the Sunite’s words. After so long, she tears her eyes from him and stares into the dark before her. He places a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezes it gently, then walks towards the door. As he closes it from outside, he hears two words softly spoken from within, “Thank you,” and the spinning of the loom once more.
Animus stretches within his armor, then turns to retire to the inn, when a voice from the dark calls out. “Mr. Animus! Mr. Animus!” The paladin turns and watches as a man runs up to him. “You’re needed at the infirmary in the barracks! A man was attacked and gravely injured.”
No rest for the weary… Animus nods. “Lead on.”
Many hours later...
I donÂ’t think IÂ’ve ever felt so tired in my life, and I wasnÂ’t half-red for most of it. Shard had been beaten; his tongue cut out, burned, left to rot on the ground, and then improperly treated when he had been found. Compounded together, that had made his surgery exceedingly more difficult than KalinaÂ’s had been. Thankfully, Dom was present this time and lent his aid. After the surgery, Animus stayed with Shard, monitoring him through the night, until morning came and he left to retrieve the Fabric of Dreams from Layla.
Animus smiles at the shimmering bundle in his arm. Hopefully, this might help against the drums Kalina keeps hearing. Unfortunately, while his mind his strong, his body finally reaches its limit as he stumbles to his knees. So tired... I need to rest... just a nap... His weary eyes glance to the Spirit in the distance. In a matter of minutes, he's pushing the door open to his room. After locking the door plodding over to the bed, he falls into it and falls into sleep.
Unfortunately, the Fabric of Dreams still rests in his arms. The moment his eyes close, it begins to glow a soft silver light, filling the Aasimar's dreams with bliss and peace. So wonderful are the dreams that he remains in the enchanted sleep for a long, long time and events would prevent Kalina from ever receiving the gift.
Small Sacrifices
