ph_logs | [Open] And I Pray My Worries Might Melt Away

[Open] And I Pray My Worries Might Melt Away

Who: Drelasa and co.
What: Taking a dip at the hot springs at odd hours, in hopes of being able to do so without being seen by others
When: Start of August
Where: The hot springs
Warnings: Discussion of scars, body negativity, also there will be nudity

In the very early hours of the day, Drelasa Veloth makes her way to the hot springs. It's a cooler morning, a hint that the summer may be past its height, though it's hard to say what the day will bring, once the sun is up.

As she reaches the spring, she listens carefully for the sound of others, before being satisfied that she's alone. She takes off her mask, setting it on a nearby stone. Then, she carefully removes her dress, folds it, and sets it gently next to her mask. She takes off her smallclothes, and then, before stepping into the water, she takes a minute to run one hand along the length of the opposite arm. The results of Dr. Watson's surgical work are still holding up, for the most part, but she can already feel a little bit of swelling returning to her elbows- the 'sacraments' beginning to fill her body once again. She'll have to schedule another appointment.

As she slips into the water, she mutters a prayer of thanks to the Three and the Ehlnofey for the heat of the earth. Not that Azura, Boethia, or Mephala really have anything to do with geothermal phenomena, of course, but it's best not to leave them out. She reflects on what some of the older Ascended used to say back home: their kind and kin are blood of the Mountain, foyadas and lava ponds given flesh. Perhaps that's why she feels so at home in a hot spring; it's familiar to the point of feeling like it could be an extension of herself.

Drelasa starts to genuinely relax as she soaks, the nodules throughout her body softening and releasing their rock-hard tension. She's so relaxed, in fact, that she doesn't listen for newcomers.

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She nods slowly.

"Mine... mine was not quick. I don't have the clearest memories of it, but I know there was screaming, and crying, and begging."

"Unfortunate." There's a sentiment of apology there, but he doesn't know the words to express it.

"That is standard for being transformed against your will. Everyone who I've watched undergo ceremorphosis did the same. I believe it's expected."

He twists his tentacles in his fingers, "I did not. He was dying, this actually saved this body from a worse fate. It was a very slow acting poison, but debilitating enough to make ending it prematurely extremely difficult. So this was welcomed."

"I'm glad you made it."

The things she's heard about the Illithid unnerve her, in may ways because it reminds her of the failings of her own people. That doesn't mean she won't respect Imbros' merits and feelings as an individual, or acknowledge his experiences. He's ignorant of a lot of things... but so is she. The fact that he's opening up is a welcome thing, an exciting thing.

She wonders, though...

"Is there any incongruity between his form and yours? Is there anything that hurts or aches in the aftermath of your ceremorphosis?"

"Well I'm much taller than he was," there's a hint of laughter in his voice when he says that. He's not sure how he'd handle being five foot three again, hopefully he never has to find out.

"But no, this form feels natural and complete. This is me, born from a tadpole and nurtured by the flesh of a Drow. But I also did not need to learn how to use this form, I had instant access to the infinite memories of all of my kind. So it wasn't like I became something else, I simply...am."

"What is a Drow? I've never heard that term."

"An underdark species, what was the name the surface dwellers used..." he thoughtfully says a few sentences in another language trying to figure out how to translate this. "Dark Elves I believe. Though they are very much not elves and would despise the comparison."

He doesn't even like saying it and he's not a Drow anymore.

If she had eyes, they would widen.

"You... he was a Dark Elf, too? My people called ourselves Dunmer, not Drow, but... oh, but it's probably not the same. Blue-gray skin, red eyes?"

"He had yellow eyes. But yes, blue-ish grey skin, red, purple, yellow eyes. Infinite lifespan if they don't kill each other, and they always kill each other."

He still has yellow eyes even.

"By the blessing of Mephala's cunning and Boethia's schemes," she laughs.

"Although I suppose he kept different gods. Hm... did his people work closely with arthropods? Reptiles?"

"Goddess, Lolth." He says something in that language again, and from the cadence it's obviously a proverb or prayer or a parable. "Mmm, I'm starting to think we're very similar."

There's a scurrying sound, as he manifests something in his hand and then it vanishes just as fast.

"Spiders."

“Spiders!” she gasps in delight.

“Blessed Mephala, Mother of Webs and Whispers, is the patron of spiders.”

"I spin thy web of chaos, Lolth, I spin it in your name - let not the threads unravel." He sighs, sinking further into the spring. At least one of them is happy about spiders.

"She is a spiteful and vengeful goddess, I hope in my absence someone has found a way to end her. Is yours better?"

“I would not say Mephala is without her connections to chaos. She is the one who teaches us to see from the corner of our eyes, to keep our friends close and our enemies closer. She is master of conspiracies, spinning in her web the connections between all who vie to undo one another. She is not a gentle goddess, but she teaches us the skills we need to survive. Our Velothi ancestors departed the Summerset Isle out of disgust for the haughty indolence of the Aldmer. During this exodus, it was essential that they be able to know and outwit their enemies.”

"They do sound similar. I have no need for gods or goddesses." Or those who worship them, but that goes unsaid.

"Aldmer? Another god or is that a species?"

"The Aldmer were some of the first elves. The Dunmer, Bosmer, and Altmer all trace their lineage to the Aldmer. We could not be more different from them."

"Ah I see. Similar to my world then. It's strange how close ours are to each other but we're clearly not from the same realm." He's not sure what to make of that, it's like witnessing his own home a few feet to the left. It's unsettling but also piques his curiosity.

"What of other races? Orcs? Humans? Dwarves?"

“The Orsimer have seen their kingdoms rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall. Four times they have raised a sovereign state called Orsinium, and thrice far it has fallen. They are proud and quick to anger. I’ve not met so many in my life, though they are more numerous in Skyrim, where I was last traveling.”

“The great human empire fell two centuries ago, and rose again as a shadow of its former self. Their Emperor is at the beck and call of the High Elven Thalmor state, and for that reason, the men are at war with one another, as the crown seeks to control their way of life.”

“The Dwemer… the Dwarves… they vanished thousands of years ago. No one quite knows what happened, but they were likely victims of their own reckless artifice.”

"Many of the dwarves in my world went north to mine for black ice, which can be shaped into powerful magic items. Assuming one doesn't die of inclement weather while obtaining it, though they seem not to mind. If I had to guess, I'd think there's more humans in my world than any other race, but they're also the shortest lived so it makes sense they reproduce faster and wider."

He makes a soft musing sound, "Were we back in my world, this is where I'd be told to stop thinking of them as livestock. I can hear it in his voice even..."

"That is... the relationship between your colony and men. I cannot say I approve, but I am not surprised, nor am I one to judge. My people have long treated the races of men as inferior, citing that they live but 'dozens and dozens' to our 'hundreds and hundreds.'"

She pauses.

"It is not as if the men have not wronged us as well, but..."

"It's the relationship between my species and everyone who isn't us. To be clear, we do eat them so they truly are livestock as well as labor. I'm told that creates ethical quandaries when you're too close to your food, though I've never found that a problem."

It's easy when one maintains an air of complete superiority who thinks that everyone else exists to serve them.

"Were I human I might argue that living only dozens of years means their time is more valuable, since they have so much less of it."

"That isn't a bad argument," she admits.

"I believe the old elven argument stems from the idea that humans live too short of lives to really learn anything of meaning, but I know that is patently false. I've met humans who are wise beyond their years, and I've also met humans who could live a thousand years and still know nothing."

Haldor is the latter.

"They have superhuman luck as well." He glowers, why are all the most obnoxious humans able to just drop in and out of problems as needed? Why do things just magically work out for them?

~~It's because he keeps befriending main characters.~~

"That could be said about any race. There are 400 year old Drow who are complete idiots who couldn't think themselves out of a closed room if their life depended on it. Elves as well. I suppose what it comes down to is everyone wants to be the center of the universe and that becomes impractical if others are around insisting they're also important and worthy. That's why there's a pantheon of gods and goddesses who can't get along."

"Ah, so your gods are at odds with one another as well, hm?" she laughs.

"I don't think it should surprise us that our spiritual ancestors cannot get along with one another, if it's so impossible for us."

She pauses, thinking.

"You refer to 'elves' as if they are something entirely different from us. Are dark elves, high elves, and wood elves not all descended from a common ancestor, where you come from?"

"Always. Were they to suddenly start getting along I would find it highly suspicious."

Of course he kind of finds everything to do with the gods suspicious. No matter how much their cleric tries to convince him otherwise he can't fathom a single thing that deities have ever done that wasn't self serving. Deep down he's probably just jealous because there's a single digit amount of things he's done that weren't self-centered and that's too many things.

"Millennia ago yes, but they would not consider themselves kin. And if you were to imply as such to any of those groups they'd likely kill you for the insult."

"I cannot say there is much friendship between the Dunmer and the Altmer, and the Dwemer subjected the Falmer to such atrocities that it altered their very souls and those of their descendants... and the Orsimer, they were treated like beasts until about two hundred years ago... but killing over provable heritage just seems a bit silly."

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cw: suicide mention

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cw: racism mention, allusion to slavery

cw: mentions of eating people

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