#Sylmae all but! I didn't want to kill anyone! I had good intentions

[recitedemise]

What if the wizard ever learned of his effect on her?

What if he learned of his poison, of his unsightly kindness and his most wretched words? He must roil up her insides, sending her sensibilities in a mad revolt, and to do so with the conduct of a killer with the vial...madness, most certainly, how he spikes her drink. He keeps smiling and soothing. Another sip, he would say. She'd do better, far better, to be rid of this befoulment, but her heart and her senses seem to war with her urges. Just another, he cajoles her. Drink what's tender and sweet.

Have your fill of this wizard.

Drain him bare to the bone.

He looks to her, Bhaal's chosen, and relinquishes his chalice when the hour with the fire grows all too cold.

"Oh." A heavy word, lingering in their space as he wordlessly stares. She sounds...distant, Gale thinks, and not a little bit fumbling -- perhaps a lamb in the pewter or confessional booth. He's made to listen closely, a father sat bequeathed with her burden of sins. What's his judgment for his flock? And how's his view on her change? She swallows down her vintage, ache rampant in her words, and in the flicker of the fire that wreathes ablaze her body, she's a vision, a silhouette of pain and grief.

She turns to face him, a tempest of emotion turning on its heel. Gale wants very badly for a drink of his own. Sylmae, watching, is a long pour of sorrow. "Well, intention is all well and good, though I wager the mileage to that would vary should you find yourself surrendering to your urges regardless. Still, I imagine someone devoid of a conscience wouldn't be so...ahem. Forthcoming," he fumbles. "Believe me, I know the compulsion toward honesty that a good drink may bring, and had you no regrets at all, I'm sure it would've made itself known." In fact, he, short on brains, should've felt more afeared.

Succumbing to your instincts and indulging all your needs... Gale struggles, gaze holding, and drops his voice. "It sounds familiar, this ravenous 'appetite' of yours. I wouldn't go so far as to claim your experience as my own, but perhaps I myself might know the burden of nursing one." The both of them walking as two lumbering Armageddons...! Their list of similarities go on and on. "I've no knowledge of this side effect of our illithid passengers truthfully, but it doesn't mean it can't be something else. I'm sure there's something to this compulsion of yours." Then: "It doesn't speak for any Sylmae I know."

     from the corner of her eye, she stole a glance at the wizard. gale dekarios looked upon her with kind eyes. her ill-beating heart retched at the softness that exuded from him naturally. the human possessed a kind soul, burdened with a momentous task from his goddess. perhaps, they weren't too different after all.

     sylmae's skilled hands fell back to her sides, the pads of her fingertips gently pressed into the side of her upper thigh. the silence of the night takes hold for a moment. it took sylmae a few moments before she responded to him again. bhaal's flesh spawn stepped in front of mystra's chosen, her crimson eyes fell to his chalice. only an inch of liquid remained pooled at the bottom of his cup. mae reached for his glass, taking it from his grip and into her own.

     "i apologize if i may ruin the night with what i'm going to say." she apologized, voice quiet for only him to hear. her lips opened to speak, then quickly shut. sylmae bent down to fetch the wine bottle beside their feet and she made quick work to pour gale another half filled glass. "this will help."

     "i . . . truthfully do not know my past. i . . have a tendency to kill and it comes so naturally to me. it feels as if, i have been doing this type of work my entire life. the bard in the camp, alfira . . . i killed her."

     she took a quick swig of the liquor straight from the bottle, hoping the wine would soothe the unholy confession oozing from her guilt ridden lips. the warmth of the wine comforted the whirlwind of unfamiliar emotions that stirred within her.

     "she was such a nice girl; i didn't want to kill her. my mind was not my own that night." as the words left her mouth, her eyes darted to her companion's features. sylmae, unconditioned to personal vulnerability, searched for any signs of emotion from the other. "i promise i have no intention to hurt you or anyone in the party. it could be caused by the tadpole . . . or maybe it's just who i am."