Fable - Ask Mirrored Eyes

[Ysala]

She smiled, shaking her head as she realized how little Nasir had told Myrra. "The Thousand Thousand are the 'pantheon'. The collection of the Elder Ones who we title as our gods. They are countless, unknowable, and yes...much like us mortals."

A small chuckle escaped the older Drow.

"Their motivations are more...difficult to understand." She admitted quietly, closing her eyes for a moment. "Their actions can be confusing, disorientating even, but like us they are fractured in their desires."

At least she had always thought so.

"The Thousand Thousand are ancient, primordial. They existed long before the gods of man." She paused for a moment. "Perhaps even long before Arethil itself."

Her lips thinned. "Sometimes, I think it best we don't understand them."

She had seen more than one madman who claimed to.

 

[Myrra]

Her finger went from her chin to her cheek until Myrra’s entire palm found itself wrapped around her jaw. Why had he not explained this?

”Do they... speak to you?”

From the stories she was told she had assumed these gods were no different from the ones back in Elbion. Passive, uninvolved, and likely nonexistent.

These gods seemed, well, involved.

Much more than she had anticipated. To hear Nasir tell it these gods were a holdover of a priestly order desperately clinging to power. When Ysala spoke it was as if she had a deeper connection. As if the situation was far more complicated than she could’ve imagined.

Her shoulders tensed at the revelation. Had she been deceived before or was she being deceived now?

”It’s hard for me to trust. Even harder if I’m asked to trust something I can’t understand at all.”

 

[Ysala]

"Abyss no." Ysala said with a shake of her head.

Ysa'leth did not exactly 'speak' with her. The Goddess gave her knowledge, power, strength, and impressions of things. "There is only one who has a connection to all the Gods, a Chosen, and their making is also often their undoing."

"Some share a...connection, as I do with Ysa'leth." She had been born for the Dark Maiden, to serve her. Thus named Ysala in her tribute. "But such a thing is rare, even for those of the blood."

She gestured to her eyes, and then to Myrra's.

"I am not asking for your Trust, child." She didn't need it, didn't expect it. Never did from anyone. "I am simply explaining my perspective. It is...different than the one which you were shown before, and he had his reasons for it."

Lips thinned for a moment, her eyes darting to the Tailor.

She said three quick words to the man in their mother tongue. He looked at Ysala for a moment, bowed, and then slinked off somewhere.

"Do you know the true crime your Patron committed? Not what he tried to do, but what he did?" She asked quietly. "Why they did not dare to kill him?"

The subject was a sensitive one, and speaking of it could be a sentence of death.

Even for someone like her.

 

[Myrra]

A Chosen? What in Arethil was that? From Ysala's telling they sounded like mad men.

"I appreciate your perspective. It's rather... enlightening," Myrra said in an honest tone. Ysala said something to the tailor, it was too fast for her to comprehend. Something about the tea or maybe just to buzz off. She couldn't be sure.

The older drow's face was one of stone. Deathly serious. Whatever was swirling through her head there was clearly a good reason for dismissing the tailor and Myrra could tell from the volume of her voice alone that whatever was being said wasn't to be repeated.

Likely ever.

"Well," she began while looking side-to-side, unsure of why, "he told me that he had led a rebellion. Opposed the gods and sought to overthrow the churches and the nobility and condemn the old way of life."

Wrinkles formed as she made a sour face. Only when she was admitting it to someone else did she realize how naive it made her sound. Nasir had painted this perfect picture of his life and what he hoped to achieve. Or, well, perhaps he hadn't but Myrra had believed him to be righteous and just in his actions. That he sought a future that she now realized seemed improbable at best. Impossible at worst.

She swallowed and fumbled with her skirt, "he insisted that he wished to create an equal society."

Her face felt hot from embarrassment. She knew that Ysala likely wasn't someone she could trust but her truths were making her realize how foolish she was to trust Nasir. To feel accepted.

"I believe he may have just used me to get back here. Because of my birth. Because of these." A finger pointed towards one of her crimson eyes which stared straight through the follower of Ysa'leth.

 

[Ysala]

She mused for a moment. "He may well have, but he did not lie to you."

At least not from what she knew of the man. Ysala had only met Nasir once, and the man had been in chains at the time. It was after his coup had failed, after blood had already been spilled and everything had gone tumbling down.

"He did not...does not believe in the power of the gods." Ysala spoke more quietly again, her voice dropping. "He did all you say. He tried to slaughter the nobility, the priesthood. He nearly succeeded in strangling the Chosen in her cradle."

A slight hint of amusement flickered across her features. "But that was not his gravest crime."

Her words were barely a whisper.

"Your Patron, Nasir, Vesryn...whatever it is you knew him as. He broke the yolk of the Thousand Thousand in the most horrid of ways." Her lips thinned. "He tore one of the God's from the Abyss."

Ysala's skin rose with goosebumps. "He bound one of the Thousand Thousand, slaughtered it like a lamb, and took it's power."

She shivered.

"It was an unthinkable act, a heresy that the Priesthood simply...didn't know how to deal with." Ysala cleared her throat. "It is a madness, to claim the powers of a God."

Fingers tightened for a moment, and briefly her eyes seemed to glaze over before she returned her attention to Myrra. "He wanted the equality you spoke of, but how he would have wrought it..."

Her lips thinned.

Ysala knew her own thoughts on Nasir's methods, on what he had done. There had been something...fascinating to it, but to slaughter the Gods? To bring them to ruin? That was something she could never agree to.

 

[Myrra]

A splash of concern coated Myrra's face as this revelation was made known to her. She had seen Nasir use his magic before but she hadn't known it was derived from the power of a god he slew.

"He wanted to have every drow slay a god?"

If she understood Ysala's explanation properly that's what it had sounded like to her. Nasir hoped to transform the entire race of dark elves into god-like beings? Well, after dispatching for the nobility and priesthood of course. Along with any other drow who opposed his rule, she assumed.

While the younger elf had no sentiment towards the 'Thousand Thousand' she could agree with Ysala on a single point. "It seems... unnatural."

She had been a non-believer for much of her life. But as these gods of the drow were ancient and very much real the idea of taking them in, letting them change you, it seemed like a line mortals weren't meant to cross.

Something unnatural had cursed her, given her the hydromancy magic she possessed. While it had proven an invaluable asset to her survival there was always something uneasy about it. Something she couldn't trust. The fact that Nasir had willingly manipulated his own form for some crazed agenda did not sit well with her.

The fact that he wished to do the same to others caused her to feel sick to her core. She turned her head from Ysala to hide the tears that had formed.

"I'm sorry," she said while wiping her eyes with one hand, "I am so conflicted."

With dry eyes she regained composure and faced the older elf. "I will present my truth to the court. The priests condemned me as an abomination for political reasons, to ensure the nobility remained divided. I don't care for the Thousand Thousand but I also won't be looking to transform our people into some kind of walking abomination." This was her truth and she cared not if Ysala or Nasir or anyone else disagreed with it.

 

[Ysala]

Ysala shrugged. "I do not know if that was what he intended for all, but...I could certainly imagine. He would have certainly slayed them himself."

Not that Ysala even believed he could have. The God that Nasir had taken from the Abyss had not been the strongest, though she supposed that was rather irrelevant when you spoke of the Thousand Thousand. She mused for a moment, then regarded Myrra again.

"There is nothing to apologize for." Ysala said soothingly.

Her head nodded slowly as Myrra acquiesced to what she had asked for.

"Your decision is your own." For a brief moment a thought flittered through her mind, and then she slowly continued. "The disruption you cause will benefit me greatly."

Ysala frowned for a moment. "But I do not hold you to my cause. Perhaps in court you will find your own way."

She mused.

"There are more than just mine and his." Many more.

 

[Myrra]

Ysala’s words caused her to realize that perhaps her assumption that Nasir would manipulate the very being of others might’ve been unfounded.

She may have been a tad quick to judge. But, she still couldn’t support the fact he had absorbed one god to begin with. If she were to ever see him again, well, he’d have some explaining to do.

”I’ll be your disruption at court,” her tone seemed as if she was pleased with herself. Gleeful.

Fingers raced down a lace-covered amber fabric as she thought hard. ”Any suggestions on my attire?”

She was uncertain what was normally appropriate to wear to ‘court.’ There was also the matter of one more query buzzing around in her mind. A concern she tried to convince herself wasn’t an issue any longer but natural survival instincts had other ideas.

”When we arrive at court and I stand before them and speak my truth. What will happen? Will they,” her lips made an audible smack, ”kill me?”

Would Ysala even know for sure? Or tell her the truth? Whatever answer she provided was better than the uncertainty she had now. If Myrra was to die for speaking honestly and it helped bring about change then so be it. But it’d be nice to know if you were marching towards your grave.

 

[Ysala]

J
The Older Drow stood, folding through a few more fabrics before she plucked out a dress, walking it over to Myrra and offering it. The thing was elaborate, beautiful, and stubningly dark. Something that a Queen might have worn on the surface, if that Queen was also a master of dark magics.

"Not openly." Ysala answered. "Attacking you, especially at Court, would be a breach of etiquette severe enough that your attacker themselves would be put to death."

Despite their more...savage nature, their people were not complete animals. They had rules, things that could not be ignored lest punishment be meted out. It was part of why one had to be so careful when doing things in the open, why the nobility preferred it's blades in the dark.

A lesson she'd learned long ago. "Once you arrive the older generations will know who you are. What it means for you to be here. Those who opposed your parents will try to use you for their own gain."

The Elder Drow mused for a moment, then continued.

"So might they." Ysala referred to Myrra's parents. "The priesthood will likely remain silent, there are usually a scant few at Court, but I suspect they'll respond in the night."

Meaning assassins, though Ysala had no concern for that. She then smiled, looking at Myrra. "Then there are the newer generation, those too young to remember. I suspect they will be very interested in you."

 

[Myrra]

Ah, so she wouldn't immediately die. Horrific death would come later. Wonderful!

"I'd prefer it if the priests were few in number," her tone was dismissive and callous. "But I am curious, what will the older generations interpret my being alive and in the Undercity as?"

She had guesses but wondered what the older, wiser, dark elf meant. Would the older nobility interpret her return as a sign of calamity or a sign that the priesthood had blundered? That their gods and priests weren't all-knowing or infallible. Or maybe Ysala was hinting at something different, Myrra had already recognized that the picture Nasir had painted for her was an incomplete one.

Or maybe it was none of the above. Simple politicking for rival families to get a leg up on the Zaeneir family, the clan of her father. Or perhaps to shame members of the Ichylst family, the one of her mother.

"The younger drow can think what they will of me. They should know what their parents and grandparents did. What they could've done to them," her words were still bitter.

A thought sped through her mind as she tried on the dress that Ysala had picked for her. It fit tightly across her hips but hung loose enough near her ankles to flow elegantly. It was a lovely piece that, if she were in a better state of mind, she'd likely be gushing over. "My parents... you know who they are? Do you think they'll be in attendance?"

The idea of facing them was, well, something she wasn't certain if she was ready for yet.

 

[Ysala]

"Some will likely think it a sign. Others will see the truth. It is hard to say." There was a great many nobles who attended court, and depending on who they were Myrra's presence would be taken differently. Some would undoubtedly try to kill her, others would try to use her, and some might even have genuine sympathy for what she had gone through.

She thinned her lips for a moment, then continued on.

"Most will not show their true thoughts are Court." That would be too easy. "They will come to you, or me, after. Sending messages through servants and assassin's."

As was their way.

Ysala nodded In approval as Myrra tried on the dress. "I suspect most of the younger generation already know these things, but you will be excellent proof of their suspicions."

Another divide, another rift created. Exactly what she wanted. Chaos would be the ladder she climbed.

"I do however suggest that you reject any proposals of marriage." Ysala told Myrra. "Such things can be very dangerous in the Undercity."

Entanglements and the like. Something that she had learned first hand, twice, in her younger years. A brief smile flickered over her features, though it quickly drifted away as Myrra asked about her parents. "I suspected. The features of your face, your story, confirmed it."

She was of the priesthood, only barely in some eyes, but enough so that she knew things most others did not.

"Your mother will be absent, she has not attended in some time." Ysala said quietly. "Though it is likely your father will be there."

 

[Myrra]

Messages and assassination attempts sounded like an interesting mix of gifts for her part in this whole adventure. Her peers were what interested her most, they were likely very different from herself but the way Ysala spoke made Myrra believe that they were blameless in what happened to her.

That possible there was already political movement going on among the younger drow. That they would've opposed what happened to her. That there might be some hope for her people.

"M-marriage?"

The word alone caused her brain to screech to a halt. There would be marriage proposals from her simple apperance in court? From her story alone?

For one quick second her eyelids shut before refocusing on Ysala, "what do you mean marriage proposals? How are they dangerous? Why would they come from this simple appearance at court?"

Myrra had to take a deep breath to relax herself. Her heart was nearly pounding out of her chest from that little comment and then the entire situation was exacerbated by the confirmation of her parents. Her father would likely be in attendance.

The younger drow was prepared to stand in front of these strangers and recount what happened. And while her own father might've been just as much of a stranger as the rest of the audience to her... she didn't know if she was ready to actually look at him. To face him.

"When we arrive at court, can you do me a favor?" Her hand adjusted the right strap of the dress she was modeling before finalizing the last clasp on the back of it. Completing the elegant look and admiring herself in the faraway mirror. "Let me know which side of the room he is on. I want to... avoid... looking at him. I don't know if I'm prepared to see him. Not yet."

 

[Ysala]

"You are young, beautiful, and most importantly your appearance will bring a great amount of change." Which of course meant there was an opportunity for the grabbing of power. Such a thing was practically custom in the Undercity. Even though her family had tried to be rid of her Myrra was still of the nobility.

"Men and women both will want your hand." Ysala said with a shrug. "Many will see opportunity in what you say."

Hence her advise of denial. "Play a firm hand, and you will be just fine."

Ysala said with a smile, genuine warmth coming through the expression. She did not want Myrra to fall into some of the same trappings she had when she was young.

When Myrra made her next request part of her heart dropped a little bit, lips thinning for just a brief second before she nodded her head.

"Of course, Child." She told her. "I will make sure of it."

 

[Myrra]

Myrra blushed at the compliment but dismissed it quickly. "I don't see myself agree to any marriage proposal anytime soon." She hoped the admission reaffirmed Ysala of where the younger elf's ambitions truly lied.

She didn't care for love, at least not now. She wanted change and vengeance and all of those bitter things that she had to resolve before she could settle down and live a more peaceful life.

That was what was waiting for her after all of this right? Acceptance in a dark elven society that was just. Where she could just simply live her life.

"Thank you," she said with a smile that was half grateful and half nervous.

One final twirl left the dark elf satisfied. "I think this dress will do nicely. Don't you?"

A bit more fidgeting with her fingers and a tingle in her spine left her with one final question for the follower of Ysa'leth.

"How long do we have until court?"

 

[Ysala]

Ysala inclined her head in a graceful nod, wondering if the girl would still feel the same way after meeting some of the more charming of her peers.

The thought was an amusing one given the more serious topics they had already addressed on this day, and under the circumstances that they had met. Ysala knew well though the passions one could find at Court, as much as she would like to forget. "I believe so."

The Priestess mused.

"A few hours." She explained. "It is early morning now."

Something always difficult to tell here in the Undercity unless you were used to it. "Court will begin at night, as always."

She pursed her lips.

"Enough time to teach you some etiquette, I think." At least the basics.

 

[Myrra]

She had forgotten that without the aid of sunlight it felt nearly impossible to keep track of the time. Before Ysala had crossed her path the routine she kept served as a close enough "clock." Wake up, find some work, eat, drink, find a safe place to sleep. Repeat the next day.

"Right. Morning," she repeated as if to feign knowledge.

It did seem peculiar for the court to meet at night. Perhaps it was simply customary.

Then came the mention of etiquette. Myrra had grown up in an orphange, then worked as a cutpurse and opportunist on the streets of Elbion. She knew enough to stay quiet when nobles, or nobles among humanity, were speaking but beyond that... well, etiquette in the traditions she was familiar with were entirely foreign.

"What kind of etiquette?"

Perhaps it was simply a lesson in how to honorably strike at someone. She really had no clue.

 

[Ysala]

Ysala smiled. "Just the basics, I assure you."

She did not expect Myrra to cram an entire lifetime of study into a single day of learning. That was impossibility even if she turned out to be the greatest student Ysala ever had. A hand waved dismissively as she continued.

"Don't worry." Ysala pulled herself up to her feet. "We'll return to my estate and start there, have a meal as well."

Her 'estate' could also have been called a Temple, but given that she was the only open worshiper and priestess of Ysa'leth such a word had never felt right to her.

There were many who paid homage to her goddess, but not many of them would admit to doing so openly. Thus was the crux of submitting to a mistress that tended to the darker side of life. "Though you may want to change again, just for the journey there."

The dress could be donned again later.

 

[Myrra]

”The basics I think I can handle.”

A coy smile touched her lips as she recalled learning of curtsies and salad knives from a disgraced noble in Alliria. Surely this wouldn’t be much more difficult.

An estate? She wondered if Ysala lived some kind of extravagant life in a giant underground mansion or if estate merely meant a cramp apartment somewhere. Judging by the clothes she wore, the clothes she was buying for Myrra, the younger Drow assumed the former.

”Yes, I’ll change out of this,” she eyes her reflection once more to take in the beauty of the slender black dress before stepping in and placing the more modest and practical outfit on.

It was still beautiful, even if it paled in comparison to the dress, and it allowed her to “fit in” with the upper echelons of society in this part of the Undercity. ”Ready when you are,” Myrra said while carrying the box containing the dress as Ysala spoke with the tailor. She assumed to pay him for the outfits.

 

[Ysala]

Ysala left coin enough to compensate the tailor, and then some more for him to keep his tongue.

The man would accept it of course, lest he met the same fate in the night has those bandits had befallen. It was a simple fact that you did not cross one of the Priestood, and that went doubly for one who was as old as her.

"This way." She told Myrra as they left.

Their walk was a relatively short one, though as they went through the Under-City more of the splendor of the area became clear. Houses became walled estates, and the streets themselves seemed illuminated in more than just the light of vines and plants.

There was a glow to the rock itself here, as though the very stone were enchanced.

Eventually they reached a building seemingly made of sweeping black stone. Every angle was curved and overlapping, every corner cut in slow rolling edges, as though a thousand cloaks were overlapping one another. There was a strange sort of beauty to it, though following the contours of the structure seemed to hurt the eyes.

Two great double doors opened as Ysala and Myrra approached, the inside revealed to be filled with a gray marble lined with onyx streaming through it like black rivers.

Akin to a palace

 

[Myrra]

Myrra nodded at the tailor as the pair left his boutique, her new shoes tapping on the polished stone floors. The sleeves of her top looked absolutely radiant against the bioluminescence of the Undercity.

The two marched on past the upscale housing and glowing stones. Myrra marveled at the proficiency of the architecture here. Jagged edges that went smooth at the strangest of angles, gorgeous struts which seemed to fade away into the next building, and elaborate glass working that formed enormous windows.

They came to a stop in front of what the younger drow had picked out as her favorite building thus far. It was as the double doors opened that Myrra realized this was their destination. And as lovely as Ysala’s house was from the outside the interior was breathtaking.

”T-this is your home?”

She slowly twirled around, mouth agape and eyes frantically trying to take in the splendor of the place. ”I don’t think I’ve ever set foot in a place as magnificent as this.”

Slowly she gathered herself and set the fanciful, ribboned, box on a nearby table. With cautious steps she walked back towards Ysala, eyes still tracing the onyx rivers up through the walls of this palatial estate.

”Am I right to guess my behavior right now is um, the opposite of proper etiquette?”

 

[Ysala]

"Yes." It was difficult to tell which question she was actually answering, though with the way her lips quirked into a smile it might have been both of them at the same time.

For a few moments the Elder Drow simply watched Myrra, and then she continued.

"Though you need not worry about it here." Ysala said as she dismissed the thought with a hand. "There are few social constructs in my own estate, and the only reason I have it is because of tradition."

The Priesthood had insisted upon it after her proving.

"Come." She motioned towards Myrra.

"I'll show you your room." The Priestess told her young companion. "Then we can eat and speak of what you must learn."

 

[Myrra]

Myrra exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

This place was far nicer than any she had ever stepped foot in. And while she wrestled with the idea of feeling ‘comfortable’ here she would at least be a bit more at ease knowing she didn’t have to fake some alien culture’s etiquette.

No, not an alien culture. Her culture.

”My… room?”

Her face was awash with confusion. She was being given a room? How long did Ysala intend to keep her here? ”I suppose I’ll need somewhere to stay, after the visit to the court.”

Her stomach grumbled at the mention of food but Myrra ignored it and scooped up her dress, following closely behind Ysala. Marveling more and more as they sauntered down the hall towards her room.

 

[Ysala]

The room that Ysala lead her to was about as fancy as the rest of the estate, though there was a sense of...homeliness that the rest of the place did not have.

"Here." The Priestess said as she opened the door to the room. "You may stay as long as you like."

Ysala told Myrra, smiling for a brief moment.

The inside of the room was of course filled to the brim with furniture carved of every rare material one could ever dream of. There was a four corner post bed, a desk, a massive wardrobe as well as several other pieces that belonged in a Palace.

Attached to the room was another smaller one, which could be surmised to be a washroom.

Indoor plumbing was a technology the Drow had long ago stolen from the Dwarves.

 

[Myrra]

Her heart swelled as the drow walked through her room. Her room. Not some tiny section of an outdoor shed where she slept or temporary lodging at a run down motel. Ysala said this space was hers, for as long as she liked.

She ran a finger along the surface of the desk, setting the dress Ysala had bought for her down at the same time. The desk was expertly crafted and the wood seemed to shimmer from it’s polish. Her wardrobe was enormous and her jaw nearly dropped as she peaked inside to examine the various outfits, jackets, and scarves.

Behind her was the cushy bed, an ornate mirror hung on the wall, and a tiled room that housed a dwarven bath and toilet. She had only read of such things in books or wive’s tales.

”This is, well, very generous,” she said with scarlet eyes ablaze. ”Thank you.”

Her stomach rumbled again and with a tinge of embarrassment she caught the elder’s gaze again.

”Perhaps we could eat? You can begin my etiquette course as well.”

Though she tried to hide it there was no use. A radiant smile was plastered upon Myrra’s face as her expression of joy was downright contagious.

 

[Ysala]

"Yes." Ysala agreed.

Myrra would also notice that there were no windows in the room, though that was hardly unusual in the Undercity. Any view one might gain was entirely outweighed by the fact that assassins might crawl in through the gap in the middle of the night.

As the Elder Drow motioned for Myrra to follow, she would notice the same windowless pattern hold true for the entirety of the estate.

There were very few ways in and out of the Temple, and it seemed most of the illumnation inside came from the same luminous plants that were all over the Undercity. That and a few strange glowing orbs that seemed situated all over the Estate.

Eventually they reached a large ornate room with a table, strange cloak like linens hanging high above it emitting a pale purple light. "I'll have the cook bring something out."

She mused a second.

"Have you gotten used to the food down here yet?" The Priestess asked. "I understand it's...different than on the surface."