Fable - Ask Mirrored Eyes

[Myrra]

There was something surprisingly quaint about the lavish estate Ysala lived in. Perhaps it was the comforting teal and lime colored light from the vegetation in the halls. Myrra couldn’t understand why so few dark elven buildings had windows but without the draft of the wind or the shine of the sun perhaps windows were simply irrelevant here.

She sauntered behind the priestess as they walked through the hallways, eventually arriving at a fanciful dining room.

Myrra’s vision narrowed in on the soft purple lighting overhead as it painted her face a shade of violet. Her nose scrunched at the elder’s question, ”I suppose so. Or at least, when I was living in the slums I only had enough coin for, I believe it’s called, ‘hazchti?’”

Hazciki was a mixture of mushrooms, a unique Undercity grain, and a light broth. It was a peasant food common among the lower classes.

”It was different. My stomach didn’t handle it well the first few days but,” she blushed as she realized she was oversharing, ”I mean, yes, I’m used to drowish cuisine.”

Myrra slid one of the heavy chairs outward before taking a seat at the decorative table.

 

[Ysala]

Ysala smiled. "Well perhaps you will experience something more over the next few days."

That was almost certain.

Food in the Undercity came from all over what had once been their Empire. Even though they did not control as much as the Underrealm as they once had, there was still a vast network of trade that went on with different villages and cities.

"One of my favorites is Vrilch." The older woman contended as she sat herself down at the head of the table besides Myrra. "The meat of a large...I believe it's called a millipede in the Common tongue, roasted with peppers and mushrooms."

She could practically taste the decedent dish. "Poisonous to humans though."

Ysala commented idly as a small goblinoid like servant walked out into the dining room. He looked at Ysala, then glanced at Myrra in surprise.

"Forgive me, My Lady I did not realize we had guests!"​

"There is nothing to forgive, Dezz. The mistake was mine." She gestured towards the Goblin. "Myrra this is Dezz, my loyal chef and friend."

 

[Myrra]

While the initial thought of consuming a giant millipede still disgusted her, Myrra took the news much better than she likely would have a month earlier. ”Sounds delicious, vrilch.” The word still felt odd on her tongue but she was genuinely excited to try more of her birth culture’s cuisine.

News of its poisonous quality to humans caused a thin white eyebrow to raise. She wondered if it had ever been served with the intention of dispatching unwanted human guests.

Her crimson view shifted to the minuscule goblin that entered the dining area.

”Hello Dezz,” she said warmly, ”thank you for hosting me.”

Was that what one was meant to say to a servant? Myrra had no concept of what sort of respect one was expected to pay towards goblins or servants or goblin servants.

 

[Ysala]

The goblin raised both eyebrows, and then looked at Ysala with no small amount of concern.

"No, No, I do not Hos-"​

"Myrra has spent most of her life on the surface, Dezz." Ysala explained with a patient expression. Dezz had been in her service for as many years as she could remember. He was a servant, at least by law, though she had never treated him as such.

In front of most guests he acted the part any slave would in front of most Drow. Something that he did for Ysala's sake.

There were still appearances to be kept, acts to play. There was no getting away from the strictness of the society that had been built up around them for thousands upon thousands of years. At least not yet anyway. "She is not...aware of many things down here."

The goblin looked at Myrra, and then nodded.

"Lucky you then, getting picked up by Lady Ysala and not one of the other cretins."​

He grumbled, as if he had some experience with such a thing.

 

[Myrra]

Myrra's face filled with a smile at the conversation between Ysala and Dezz. She caught on quickly enough as she realized that any effort of kindness towards the goblin must have been unusual coming from a drow.

It was a thing that Nasir had explained to her, that she had experienced herself in the slums, her people held a certain disdain for non-drow.

"I feel quite lucky," she replied cheerfully, "Ysala has been quite kind." The younger dark elf leaned back in her chair and poured herself a glass of water in the crystalline cups that Ysala, or more likely Dezz, had placed at the table.

The taste was soothing, rehydrating after the skirmish this morning, and the coolness of the liquid against her lips was enough to cause her muscles to fully relax.

"Dezz?"

She questioned as she sat the glass cup down and eyed the diminutive man. "Lady Ysala tells me that I must learn proper etiquette for a day at court. Tell me, what advice could you impart?"

Myrra knew that asking for the finer points of dark elven etiquette from a goblin was very much antithetical to drowish etiquette itself. But she had grown up in Elbion, a melting pot of sorts, and been the subject of racism from the human majority. Besides, there was surely something useful Dezz could tell her. If you were blindfolded it was likely that Dezz could pass for a more believable dark elf than Myrra.

 

[Ysala]

The goblin seemed to consider the question for a few moments. He glanced towards Ysala, and then shrugged his shoulders as if he wasn't entirely sure about what he was going to say.

"I don't much frollic with the upper classes, aside from those who call on Lady Ysala of course."

The Cook had been a loyal companion of hers for years now.

He was a loyal man, and over the years she had used small touches of the Goddesses magic to keep his life span longer. His kind did not tend to live decades, but a small nudge here and there had kept him well enough. At least Ysala thought so.

"Do not trust them for their word. They are not liars, but there is a...trick to how they speak. Listen well and carefully."

The goblin said with a slight frown.

"Things they say can mean two or three different things."

It was clear that Dezz disliked such a practice. His people were a more simple folk, often just saying what they meant and how they had meant it. "Good advice."

Ysala said with a smile.

 

[Myrra]

Her cheeks shrank as a wide grin appeared on her face from the advice. "I think I'm familiar with that trick but I'll ensure to keep that in the back of my mind." She'd experienced Nasir speaking in half-truths and speculated that Ysala had done the exact same. As Dezz had said, she did not believe either had outright lied to her.

But double meanings could easily be construed as lies.

"Thank you, Dezz," she told the goblin thoughtfully before turning her gaze to her dark elven host.

Myrra had some skill at stretching the truth when it came to dealing with the dirty underworld of Elbion or Alliria. However, the Undercity was an alien world. Those talents hadn't transferred properly in my short experiences thus far.

The smile she returned to Ysala faded slightly as leaned back in the comfortable chair of her host.

"I don't know how much talent I'll have for such things. I will try my best but I am not a great orator. My tale to the council will be one of honesty and I'm... not entirely sure how well that will get across with my audience."

If the drow spoke in half-truths, double meanings, and obfuscation would they assume her words meant something else entirely? Would they assume a secret agenda? Not that she was without an agenda, however, she had already made up her mind that she would speak the truth with as little emotion as possible. Without accusations or mudslinging, just the facts as they occurred to her.

 

[Ysala]

"Probably not well, but that is part of the point." The truth was that Myrra would create a stir no matter what she said.

The very fact that she was alive would be enough to disrupt things. It was just a question of how that disruption would and could be used. Ysala had plans for that of course, but first she had to stand before the Court and speak.

That would come later.

Dezz, for his part, seemed to smile at the two women for a moment as though blissfully lost in the complements he'd received. Then after a second he shook his head and quickly scurried off, begging a thousand pardons and yelling something about his meal burning.

"You will do fine." The Priestess assured Myrra. "Remember who, what, you are. You need not play their games."

 

[Myrra]

Her snowy hair waved and shifted as she nodded in agreement.

Maybe they wouldn't care, but a few might. And if Ysala was correct the events would cause a disruption. Surely the priestly order would at least lose prestige and she reasoned that likely hurt their authority far more than the high priest she had murdered weeks back. If anything, that murder might've made him into a martyr. She was uncertain how politics worked here.

"I will be honest, you needn't worry about that."

She sipped on more of her water as Dezz vanished. She assumed he'd return momentarily with whatever meal he had cooked up for the pair.

 

[Ysala]

Ysala smiled, clearly pleased with the answer.

Silence fell in the room for a brief moment, though it was not an awkward note of time as one might expect. Instead it was pleasant, the sort of quiet that one would find in their own home when they had finally settled into their relaxing routine.

Just a few seconds later that silence was broken by Dezz breaking back into the dining room. He carried a platter twice the size of himself, fingers half curled around two handles.

Upon the silvery plate rested a large millipede. It's legs were curled in on itself, the once soft skin on it's belly peeled away to reveal what appeared to be a large cascade of muscled meat revealed there. Spices and herbs decorated the flesh, the aroma quiet pungent yet pleasant as he placed it on the table.

"Saved it just in time."​

Dezz declared quite happily. "Excellent work, my friend."

Ysala complemented as she looked at the meal. The creature was surrounded by dozens of mushrooms and other foliage, each with slight charr marks froma grill.

 

[Myrra]

"This smells incredible," Myrra chimed in graciously.

She waited for the elder drow to be served by Dezz before licking her own lips as the goblin cut a piece of the millipede for Myrra and spooned some of the mushrooms and various herbs that adorned the sides of the entree.

A silver fork pierces through the tender flesh of the insect and the dark elven girl took her first bite of the delicacy her people had enjoyed for millennia. A delicacy she had been denied for a lifetime. It was absolutely delicious, harboring a texture similar to that of lobster or crab but with the taste of herbal spices and perhaps a hint of cayenne (or indeed, a drowish equivalent).

Smiling ear to ear she looked at Ysala whilst a piece of mushroom and millipede was chewed in her mouth, "absolutely delicious," was all she got out before she had to force herself to another helping of the soft flesh of the cooked insect.

If this was what she had been missing out on then perhaps she had been too harsh to judge the people of the Undercity. This was the sort of culture she could be fond of.

"Is this the meal you spoke of? The one poisonous to non-drow? The one that was your favorite?" her questions came in a rapid pace interrupted only by quick sips of water or additional servings of the mushrooms, peppers, and millipede. Had this been the meal Ysala had referenced ealier, the one she declared to be her favorite, then Myrra completely understood why it was her favorite as the meal was absolutely delectable.

 

[Ysala]

Ysala ate much more slowly, smiling at her companion. "Yes, it is."

Briefly the Elder Drow wondered if Myrra's palette had finally found it's home, if by some happenstance she had stumbled upon a meal she enjoyed simply because she had been born here. She supposed that it would be fitting, though amusing still.

"There is something in the meat...I don't know what exactly, but humans do not take to it well, neither do most surface dwellers for that matter." Her lips pursed in thought for a moment.

She supposed it did not matter.

Her head shook for a moment as she began to partake in the meal herself, smiling every now and again as she looked up to watch Myrra enjoy herself. She wondered if Nasir had shown the girl...any of what her people stood for, if she understood more than just the violence of their nature.

Dezz for his part seemed absolutely thrilled at Myrra's enjoyment, a wide grin plastered on his face as he watched the young Drow. "There will be more of this sort of food at Court."

She told Myrra with a smile.

 

[Myrra]

Myrra nodded as she, once again, contemplated how often this dish was used to poison a surface dweller. She felt more sympathy that they couldn't enjoy the delectability of the dish than she did of their deaths, though.

"If there is more of this sort of food at court then perhaps court isn't as bad as I had imagined," she said as her fork stabbed through another piece of the insect and pepper combination. "Though what is the etiquette of eating at those sorts of things?"

She assumed that stuffing one's face with every food item she had never seen or heard of before was likely looked down on.

Nasir had told her of culture and spoke of their people in a romanticized manner. But after learning of the nature of her infancy, how she came to live upon the surface, she couldn't help but assume these people were backwards. Violent for the sake of violence. Quick to judge and slow to forgive.

The food before her was helping to shape a more clear image of these people. Surely there must be some aspects of this society that were cultured enough to construct such a delicacy. Maybe there were members of the priests or noble families that weren't the evil villainous sort that Nasir had made them out to be. That Myrra had, by proxy, made them out to be.

Still, Ysala had made it clear that social change was in order. Perhaps the elder priestess would bring about an establishment that rewarded people who created Vrilch and punished those who stuck to the ways that Myrra viewed as barbaric.

 

[Ysala]

"Certainly more...delicate." Ysala mused for a brief moment.

If Myrra put on such a display in the midst of Court there would be a few Ladies who no doubt would try to shame her, though the Elder Drow doubted it would work. Still, if she wanted to make a good impression, for whatever reason, it was important to keep up appearances.

"I would caution to eat more slowly." She said. "A bite at a time instead of three."

There was no harshness to her advice, in fact just the opposite. A small smile touched her lips, as if some memory were tinging her voice. "People will no doubt be watching you, even when you eat."

Ysala told her.

"Enjoy, savor." The Priestess said simply. "Though I caution you in trying too much. Certain foods can have...effects, I will point them out to you."

 

[Myrra]

Myrra nodded knowingly. She'd never been to anything so fanciful as a meal spread at an aristocratic court hearing but nibbling on hors d'oeuvres was a unique skill she'd been tested on in rare occasions in the past.

"What sorts of effects?"

The question came as her eating slowed, not from Ysala's words but from the filling of her appetite. Being judged was something she knew far better than the etiquette of the upper echelons of society. She had learned to shrug it off, or ignore it. But she knew that the priestess wasn't mentioning the judgement so that Myrra's feelings would be spared.

How well her message was received would come down to everything. Her posture, the tone of her voice, and the actions before entering the chamber.

"I'll show a bit more restraint." There was a fine line between being so stiff that you appeared alien and so loose that people found you annoying. She'd do her best to find that line when the time came.

 

[Ysala]

She considered for a moment. "I presume you've had alcohol."

Myrra was young, but she was not that young...at least Ysala was pretty sure. Sometimes it was difficult to tell the age of the young, especially for someone like her.

"The effects can be similar, worse..." There was a fruit, the Bari Bari. The taste of it was divinely sweet, but a single morsel could put you into a stupor so bad that you'd kiss a Dalkor Bison without second thought. "A few can induce hallucinations."

She mused. "At least one will ah....well, inflame passions shall we say."

Her head shook.

"Some members of the Court have fallen into debauchery." Ysala thinned her lips. 'Some' was an understatement. When you were so above reproach from the commons, it was easy to lose sense of what was right and wrong. What was right and wrong. "Partaking in such things is common."

 

[Myrra]

"I am familiar with alcohol," she said as she recalled the gin-like liquor she had been drinking several moments prior to meeting Ysala.

Myrra was well aware of human drugs back in Elbion and Alliria. She wouldn't admit such things to the elder drow but she'd certainly tried some of them. A few of them had little effect on the dark elves, or at least little effect on Myrra and thus she assumed the rest of her kin. Some were more extreme.

Regardless, hallucinogens, stimulants, and aphrodisiacs weren't anything she'd have need of anymore. Not down here. Not with her speech to the court.

She nodded and kept a calm face. "I'll be reliant on you to avoid the foods and drink that would induce those states."

To the point on debauchery her face greyed a bit.

"Debauchery? Is there a addict problem in the Undercity? Just the upper class or does it effect the entire population?"

There were certainly illicit goods in the human world so it made some sense that they'd exist down here too.

 

[Ysala]

"I would not call it a 'problem'." Ysala said, her lips a bit more thin than they usually were.

The question was a difficult one. Most within the Undercity did not care for more than just a drink and a way to relax and pass the time. With the nobility it was...different, at least for some. They knew the reality of the situation, the truth of the Undercity that the Priesthood tried to hide from all others.

That knowledge was dangerous, depressing, and problematic.

Some people could not handle the truth. Though that was only partially the reason it was used at court. "Some use it to not think of this world, but a greater whole..."

She shook her head.

"There is little to do when you sit upon a throne." It was a metaphor of course. "So why not slip into debauchery? A keening of the senses, a new depth of field."

The nobility had all the time and money in the world after all.

 

[Myrra]

Myrra nodded but didn't really understand it. She had never sat upon any sort of throne. The story reminded her of fables humans told however. Of lazy kings tired of conquest or the one of the conquering warlord who faces a crises when realizing that, at some point, he will run out of lands to subjugate.

"It sounds like," she started but then took a deep breath. It wasn't her intention to seem like she understood even the basics of Undercity society and politics but she couldn't help herself as her mind swam with ideas.

"They reap the benefits of the status quo but they aren't happy with it. They don't wish to make sweeping changes because they worry it upsets their way of life. So what is there to do besides fall into a drunken stupor."

The younger elf broke eye contact with Ysala and stared down at the table. Already regretting sharing her opinion on a topic she didn't fully grasp.

Her crimson eyes locked back on the older woman's as she vocalized her regret, "I'm sorry if that's foolish of me. I don't truly understand the situation down here but I am trying."

 

[Ysala]

"Happiness...joy is not something found easily in the Undercity." Ysala said with a nod of her head.

She herself was not entirely sure if she was...happy. The emotion was almost like a foreign entity, something that she could hardly imagine, something that seemed so distant she could hardly believe that it was real at all.

It seemed more than likely many of her kin felt the same way. "Perhaps there is mirth in simplicity. The life of a smith, of a farmer."

Her shoulders shrugged.

"I cannot pretend to know." She had always been of privilege. Above those commoners who wallowed in the muck. "Perhaps there are answers at Court, and your eyes will see them better than my own."