#perhaps tbd later because ironically tho this started as a blog fr writing inspo it's no longer that but.... maybe not

[turian]

got tagged by @greenecreek to take part in wip wednesday and i happened to be working on something in the moment that i don't know i'll be publishing anywhere else so ( also, tagging whatever writer mutuals are in the mood! i know that's cheating but <3 ) . actually edit. @anoramactir @bloodmagehawke hello >:)

so yeah this was going to be wyll/tav/astarion (? i don't even know what it started out as) time loop with the next chapter being wyll pov. warnings for body horror and ? a lot of death ? but idk if i'll rework it or scrap it or whatever. + this tav is a vague and deeply unserious construct thus far. and i began this so directionlessly and i think it really shows. tbh i think if i was to rewrite it i'd just start with wyll's point of view and have it center him. uuuh and yeah it's a first draft - here there be monsters and all that

Everything's going fine until Tav shoots some flaming fist bastard right in the arse and they turn their blade on him.

There's an attempt to explain himself (he's generally good at this) but they're on the second level of a burning building and a lot gets lost in translation. His voice, strangled by smoke, will not save him here.

As he falls, he hears Astarion object, which is interesting because Tav had been under the impression that, while he and the pale elf were certainly friends, they hadn't been as close as all that.

Then he feels Karlach topple over onto him, blood leaking, and all coherent thought is replaced by the sensation of burning alive.

-

Tav is in a pod.

Tav is in a pod, and that pod is on a nautiloid.

Tav is missing his sword, his scavenged outfit - and that had taken ages to dye to his specifications, hells - but his flesh is on his body, and does not look charred.

He lies there dazed for a moment, remembering burning.

Then he clambers out of the pod - kind of it to open for him - and makes an attempt at orienting himself.

He needn't strain so hard to remember burning - this nautiloid is, like the first he'd woken on, lit by the flickering amber of a hundred fires. Tav picks his way around them, tentatively at first, until he is better able to withstand the heat from them without getting lost in the burning of his own person.

He's alive, isn't he? So he'll just have to stow burning alive away and unpack it later. Much later, away from the eyes of his allies, especially since he has the sense Karlach will be feeling frightfully guilty about the whole thing. Karlach feeling guilty is terrible for morale, and must therefore be minimized.

Besides, someone's done a bang up job healing him. Nary a burn in sight. A brief swell of hope as he raises his hand to his face and-

Nope, that burn's still there. It feels sore. Fresher than it had been. But that must just be his imagination - and that happens, sometimes, doesn't it? Phantom pains are most certainly and certifiably a thing.

There's one of them blue glowing things at the edge of the room. He stops in front of it and wastes a moment or two on further inspection.

Interesting that all nautiloids have seemingly identical layouts. Then again, they are a hivemind, aren't they?

Are they just the one hivemind, or are there multiple hives? Is there some biological illithid layout imperative?

Is the nautiloid a species within itself? It looks organic. But a lot of things are technically organic.

Anyway, this is only one room. Perhaps he's being too hasty in his judgment of illithid architecture.

Tav moves on.

Just like on the nautiloid that had seen to his infection, this room opens into another, larger room, about - if not exactly - the same shape and size as what he'd previously experienced.

Tav's head is swimming in a pool of deja vu.

Perhaps not all nautiloids are alike, but this one was clearly born of the same production line as the one in which Tav had taken that first doomed voyage. And that's interesting, but it's not something he ought to be wasting time on at the moment, so he continues his march forward.

It occurs to him that he should be very frightened. A bit of desperation would help here. Ironically, that he feels steady at all - though it's more like a daze has settled over him, Tav would argue it is a very steady daze, so it counts - unnerves him.

We are here.

The familiar landscape is apparently so familiar that he's hearing echoes now. But Us can't be here. Us is dead, or maybe just elsewhere.

We are trapped. Help us.

Tav gazes pensively upward.

Or, more accurately, Usward.

Could Tav be dreaming?

Could Tav be dead?

Tav may be dead. Tav's life may be flashing before his eyes at the speed of geriatric molasses.

He takes issue with it starting at the nautiloid, but maybe when life flashes before one's eyes it has to start at the beginning of the end. So as not to over-complicate things or bore anyone or (ye gods) remind them of the moment of their birth.

But. No. The voice of Us is probably just an auditory hallucination. Tav should keep moving. Tav should find the others, if the others can be found.

Tav's legs do not move. Tav continues gazing Usward.

Curiosity is known to be a passionate supporter of bard mortality. It is, according to recent research overseen by a small faction of wizards who claim adherence to the scientific method but have never proven it, sixth in the running for most prolific Faerûnian bard killer. Per capita or whatever.

In other words, Tav takes the neural apparatus to the second floor.

He steps off it neatly, and beholds the nameless corpse from which Us was born.

Here is where Tav begins to speculate a bit more wildly on what exactly is happening to his own brain.

Tav could be in a coma. Oh, or Tav could be a proper illithid now. Perhaps this is what happens to souls once their bodies have gone all squiddy - they end up haunting their own memories. Maybe for eternity, maybe for however long illithids live.

How long do illithids live? And should the natural lifespan of the host body be taken into account? Will Tav be stuck in memory for upwards of a hundred years?

Gods, he should've listened to Gale more.

You've come to save us from this place, says Us upon approach. From this place you'll free us.

Tav sighs. "Might as well."

Pulling a brain from a skull is easier the second time around, which is nice. Tav would expect a memory or afterlife or whatever this is to put up more of a fight, because his brain has, in the past, has demonstrated a pattern of inconveniencing him whenever possible, but he's not going to complain if it wants to give him an easy time now. Honestly, he thinks he deserves it.

"Onwards, then," he tells Us, once they've finished sprouting legs.

They will go to the helm.

They wander down leathery steps. Tav pays special attention, this time, on the off chance that there might be some way out of this memory-dream-afterlife, but all he gets are the halls of the ship leaking nautiloid goo. Were he less distantly stressed, he might be more interested in all the valves and membranes, but upon rescuing Us a sense of urgency emerged within Tav. It is dim, but it is there, and it moves him forward quicker than before.

Onto the exposed walkway. A dragon flies past, the sight captivating enough that Lae'zel manages to startle him.

She lands. He stares. She raises her sword, threats flying from her lips, and then-

Cue the unpleasantness of parasites meeting.

"You know me," says Lae'zel, breaking the script, and Tav blinks in surprise.

"Yes," he says. "I assumed you wouldn't notice. To be honest, that is quite the relief. I feel a great deal less solipsistic now."

"Ghaik deception." Lae'zel's sword swings in what Tav feels is an unfairly targeted arc.

"Wait!" He jumps back, quick as he can, dodging her sword by only a hair's breadth. "I'm not-"

Shit.

Is that blood?

Yes.

Tav was mistaken in thinking he'd dodged Lae'zel's sword by a hair's breadth.

He falls to his knees, and then he topples over unceremoniously. His eyes stay open long enough to watch Lae'zel's retreating form.

Us, on the other hand, stands beside him until what is presumably the end.

Kind of them. Comforting, really.

But, comforted or not, Tav dies faintly irritated with himself for not having seen this coming.

-

Tav is in a pod.

Tav is... not dead?

Tav is in a pod, and Tav is not dead.

Tav is without his rapier, but Tav has his hand crossbow, and once Tav has climbed free of said pod and wandered to the second room, Tav has Us, which is sort of like having a decent weapon. A little pink fleshy weapon with legs. Claws, too, and aren't claws multiple weapons? Or do they just count as one?

Tav decides they just count as one.

Instead of going the same way he'd come this time, he busies himself looking for someone who won't immediately stab him. Shadowheart is further ahead and therefore inaccessible, but Astarion and Gale and Karlach and Wyll had all been on the ship as well, hadn't they? Astarion had complained of Tav running straight by his pod, and Karlach and Gale had seen him.

Unless Tav's memories are playing tricks on him. All of this may just be Tav's memories playing tricks on him.

Gods, their pods must all be past Lae'zel too.

Can he sneak past Lae'zel?

No. No, he definitely can't.

Waiting for Lae'zel to go on ahead of him is an option, though. He can wait in this room and watch until she flips through the air and into battle. And then he can follow after her, and...

Catch up. Eventually. Yes.

And not get his throat cut this time.

Or Tav can come up with a way to demonstrate to Lae'zel that there is no ghaik trickery in play here.

The trouble is Tav personally also suspects ghaik trickery, which limits his ability to sell the story somewhat.

Tav is a very good liar when he can convince himself he's telling the truth, but he can't quite get his head right at the moment. Probably because of all the dying. Tav's not sure. He's invested in psychology because he's invested in charlatanism, not because he's invested in mental wellness.

Suspicion of ghaik trickery is some common ground, though, isn't it? And where there is common ground there is leverage.

Right, so. Lead with the ghaik trickery, appeal to Lae'zel's team spirit, get Shadowheart and possibly the others. And then... profit.

Tav isn't sure this is a good plan, but that might just be a confidence issue.

Tav tries very hard to drum up some confidence.

We are going to the helm, Us reminds him.

"Right. Yes. We are going to the fucking helm," Tav agrees. "Tymora willing." He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and goes.

They wander out onto the open walkway.

This time Tav is ready for Lae'zel, and when she comes whipping through the air and lands before him, he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace and steps out of sword-reach.

"Hello, Lae'zel. I think we may be in an illithid memory prison. You likely don't remember me, but we need to get off of this ship, and I know the way out. I also know of several allies who are likely either on the ship or trapped in the same, er, memory prison that I and perhaps also you are."

He's missing something.

Oh, right. "The intellect devourer is not currently a threat," Tav adds hastily.

Lae'zel sneers at him. "You are mad." She seems at war with herself for a moment. Tav assumes the war is between killing him and using him as cannon fodder. It seems cannon fodder wins out, because Lae'zel offers Tav a nod, even as her eyes remain narrowed in suspicion. "Very well. We are wasting time. Forward."

The bard moves forward.

Lae'zel moves forward directly behind him.

Now three in number, they make quick work of the imps in play. And then forward again, and-

Tav makes a beeline for the pod currently host to Karlach.

This is good. This is progress.

"I need leverage." Tav pulls off saying this like a professional. He is not an artificer, but he has impersonated one before, and likes sometimes to slip back into that brusque engineering persona. Tav likes to think that was him in another life, before most of the honesty left him. He gestures to the groove on the pod in which the aforementioned leverage might fit. "Lae'zel, could you pry this open with your sword?"

"We are wasting time," says Lae'zel.

"No you're bloody not wasting your bloody time," says Karlach, muffled by pod. She bangs her horns against the transparent pane, and it cracks.

"Or just smash it, Lae'zel," Tav says. "Come on, I know you can do it. You won't even have to break a sweat. You will bring honour to your queen!"

Lae'zel shoots him an absolutely foul look tinged with even more suspicion than before, but she does smash the pod.

From it bursts one leather-clad fiery tiefling. "Gods, thought that was going to be the end of me." Her golden eyes fix on Tav. "You know a way out of this mess, soldier? Oh, shit, introductions. Name's Karlach."

Tav is very glad Karlach can't remember possibly burning him to death that one time. He offers her one of his most winning smiles (he has a whole closet full, organized from least to most winning) and sticks his hand out (reflex) before putting it back into his pocket (sense has kicked in). "I'm Tav, that's Lae'zel, this is Us. And... yes, actually. We were just on our way to the helm."

Friend! Us skitters in a little circle around Karlach, wide enough that they are not burnt. To the helm we go! We are going to the helm!

Tav wants to keep them. Tav wants to carry them around in his bag like a little lapdog and feed them only the best-

What do intellect devourers eat?

Only the best intellect, he supposes. Academics and suchlike.

"Helm it is, then." And with that, Karlach's off at a brisk pace.

Then she's back. "Helm's this way, yeah?"

Tav frowns. "I think... yes. Yes, that's the way."

"To the helm," says Karlach. She begins again to move.

Lae'zel follows efficiently, Us jauntily, Tav somewhat pathetically. Tav's day job is the sale of snake oil, which doesn't demand much cardio. He has, by now, worked up a sweat.

He keeps an eye out for Gale or Wyll or Astarion as they go, but no other pods bear familiar faces.

For reasons mostly related to being a selfish bastard, it does not occur to Tav to save the unfamiliar ones until they're already in the room with Shadowheart's pod.

But then it does occur to him, and he's about to say something about it to Karlach, who is certainly the only one present who'll sympathize, but she's found Shadowheart's pod already and is seemingly searching for a way to crack it open.

"There's a key thing in the-" Tav says, but he's struck silent by awe mid-sentence as Karlach takes the roof of Shadowheart's pod in both hands and gives a great wrench and-

"Wow," says Tav.

Karlach grins at him. Prying the pod open seems to have left her slightly electrocuted. Her hair's a little spikier than it was before, and she's swaying a bit.

Shadowheart pushes herself up off the ground. "Than-"

Tadpoles meet.

Not Tav's tadpole, this time. Tav is uninvolved. So while Karlach and Shadowheart have their moment, he leaves them to it, and gets to sifting through the other pods in the room.

Quite a few of the people interned are entirely unconscious. None thus far are Gale or Astarion (or Wyll, for that matter, though Tav's not sure Wyll got a pod. Had Wyll seen him on the ship? He hadn't, had he?)

Whatever. He'll find who he'll find. Wyll included, hopefully. Or Wyll will find them. That'll work too.

Tav continues into an adjoining room, quick as can be. He searches pod after pod, until-

Wide red eyes meet Tav's.

"I'll get you out in a moment," he tells Astarion. "Just let me figure out how." There are some wrong moves he's willing to make, but any that might run the risk of turning one of his allies illithid are off limits.

Actually-

"Karlach? Do you think you could-"

Oh, right. Karlach isn't in the room.

Tav jogs back into the Shadowheart zone, miserable at the exertion. He'd been athletic once, but that was another buried personality that had fallen out of favour with his criminal lifestyle. Gods, he could have been an acrobat.

Now is not a good time to get bogged down in regrettable life choices, though, is it? Onward.

Karlach spots Tav the moment he's through the illithid sphincter-door. She's standing by the door that leads to the helm. Shadowheart and Lae'zel are already out of sight, no doubt prioritizing the helm over newfound bards. "Coming, soldier? Got to land this thing."

"Actually-"

"Come on! Don't want you getting left behind."

"I need help. My-"

"Your what?" Karlach takes a step toward him. She seems a bit concerned. Well, a lot concerned, but there's a fresh bit of it directed solely at Tav instead of at the situation at large now.

"My friend," says Tav. Calling Astarion a friend seems like the sort of thing that should be a lie, but doesn't really feel like one. "He's in a pod. I need your help getting him out and then we can-"

"Shit." Karlach casts a look over her shoulder. "Gimme a minute, yeah?" she calls.

Objections from Shadowheart and Lae'zel are voiced, but Karlach's already running Tav's way.

"Where's your friend?" she asks.

Tav shows her.

Karlach makes quick work of Astarion's pod, just as she had before with Shadowheart's. This is, however, the second time she's been electrocuted on behalf of rescues, and when she stumbles back there is a moment Tav is genuinely afraid for her.

But she steadies herself, and as soon as she has, Tav heals her.

The trouble with healing your allies is that it takes your attention off of people who do not yet know they are your allies.

Distraction is known to be a passionate supporter of bard mortality. It is, according to recent research overseen by a small faction of wizards who claim adherence to the scientific method but have never proven it, fifth in the running for most prolific Faerûnian bard killer.

Per capita.

Astarion's dagger is at Tav's throat now. "No sudden moves, now. Best we preserve that darling little neck of yours."

"For Tymora's sake," Tav hisses. He tries to wriggle out of the hold, but his dexterity fails him, as does his wit. There is a sharp pain at his throat.

"What part of no sudden moves don't you understand?" Astarion barks at Tav.

Tav slides slowly to the ground. I wasn't thinking, he wants to say. Because Tav is choking on blood, he doesn't quite manage.

-

Tav wakes in his pod.

"For Tymora's sake."

He goes through the motions again at a run. A very uncomfortable run. Dying in the midst of your cardio ensures you reap none of its benefits.

Grab Us, convince Lae'zel not to kill you, get Karlach, Shadowheart, bring Karlach on the little search for Astarion's pod this time and shave a little time off that way-

So far so good. Tav and Karlach stand before the pod that holds one sunless magistrate.

Tav's a bit cross, throat still phantom smarting, so this time his first words to Astarion are as follows: "Do not slit my fucking throat," all but shouted through the panel between them.

"Er, Tav?" Karlach's eyeing him.

"Yes, Karlach?"

"Thought you said this was your friend...?"

"Well." Tav shrugs. "Usually. Yes."

Karlach nods. "Got a few like that myself. Right, here goes nothing."

She yanks the pod open and stumbles back. Tav heals her before Astarion can get his bearings and - this is important - without turning his back on the elf.

Astarion keeps his eyes on Tav, though Tav can tell the elf is also holding Karlach in his peripheral vision. "I think you've fallen victim to a case of mistaken identity, my dear."

"Mm." Tav crosses his arms. "Yes. You may simply have generic features."

Astarion smirks at him. "Ever heard the one about pots and kettles, darling?"

Karlach clears her throat loudly. "Ship's crashing. Do this later, yeah?" She looks around, and then at Tav. "Think there's a way to get the rest of these people out of their pods?"

Tav tears his eyes away from Astarion for a fraction of a second before thinking better of it and whipping his neck back in the vigilant direction quick as he can. Astarion hasn't moved. Thank Tymora.

Astarion is still glaring at Tav.

"We could try, but... are they conscious?" The bard's teeth worry at his bottom lip. "Let's... land the ship properly this time. And then we can get them all out."

That'll be great. They'll have a little army of tadpoled individuals.

"Brilliant. Well, come on, then. 'Fore Shadowheart 'n' Lae'zel wander off without us." And with that, Karlach's turned on her heal and zoomed back helmward.

Tav keeps his eyes on Astarion.

The elf rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to slit your throat. Stop wasting time."

For a beat, neither of them move. Their eyes narrow. The air is tense, as are rogue and bard respectively.

But then Astarion throws his hands up in the air, exasperated, and follows Karlach, and Tav follows Astarion in kind.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel are ahead. Karlach catches up first - just in time for Lae'zel to stop them all and make it known that once at the helm, all must do as she says.

Shadowheart, unsurprisingly, objects.

Tav casts an eye over at Astarion while this objection is taking place, expecting a quip of some sort, but Astarion's eyes are dark and his mouth is set in a grim line and he looks past Shadowheart and Lae'zel, perhaps imagining the battle ahead. Perhaps calculating his chance of survival.

Tav nudges him gently. "It'll be alright. Just- get behind me if you need to."

Astarion scoffs at him. "The devil would make a better shield. But thank you. I suppose."

Tav is too busy feeling insulted to point out that Karlach is actually a tiefling.

Astarion takes a steeling breath. "Forward, then," he says, as far as Tav can make out - the words are barely a murmur.

Tav watches the elf. He's about to say something encouraging, but his tongue ends up in knots instead, and by the time speech is possible again Astarion has already gone after the others and into the fray.

Forward.

Tav moves forward.

From that point on things go from middling, and then to bad, and then to very bad, and then to worse, and then finally to the worst. This all happens in the span of half a minute.

Middling: Tav moves toward the helm.

Bad: Tav must somehow glide through a caustic puddle of brine.

Very bad: Tav slips in the brine and falls.

Worse: Tav cracks his head on the ground and blacks out for a moment.

The worst: An imp shoots fire at him, which is when Tav realizes this brine is flammable.

He writhes around a bit until death shows up for its petty little reset by way of a sharp pressure to his brain.

-

Tav is roused from fiery blankness to find he is once again in his pod on the nautiloid.

He feels rather like an arrow's just gone through his head. There's no arrow now, of course. There is only the suggestion of an arrow. The extremely strong implication of an arrow.

He excavates himself from his pod with considerably more malaise than last time.

That he's begun to think of it as his pod in the way one might think of a pestilent little hovel as their pestilent little hovel is disturbing. Tav had until now been likening the pod to a conversation he'd not yet worked out how to leave.

Not a home. Not a place in which he's doomed to live. He prefers his actual pestilent little hovel, which was in a breakneck little alley not far from a tavern or two. That hovel had been a colleague rather than an unwanted housemate, whereas this pod clings to Tav. This pod won't even do the bloody dishes, and yet still it fucking clings.

Tav is a believer in the Baldurian dream, when it suits him. He is a believer in having nowhere to go but up. He is a believer in trying the broken ladder again, even after the thousandth time you've fallen off of it.

Or, well, some of him believes in such things. The rest of Tav has more sense. The rest of Tav also isn't currently interested in dying again.

But you will die, says one of Tav's inner voices. Regardless of your participation in the loop, it will kill you.

But, Tav argues, I will then be given another chance to participate in the loop. Presumably. Or I won't, and that will have solved the problem of my being trapped in it.

He wanders into the next room and breaks Us out of cranial prison. Tav has by this point grown to think of Us as a dear friend and the only one he can really trust to have his back. Us is ever present. Us will remain ever present if Tav never makes it onto the beach again.

Tav could just enjoy eternity here.

We must go to the helm, Us says.

"I'm actually just going to relax a bit," Tav explains to them. "You're welcome to go on ahead, but there's a- er, someone in the hall over there that might kill you if you wander around unaccompanied, so I might advise against that." He leans back on the leathery ground and sprawls his limbs out like a starfish and pretends he's staring at the stars.

We must connect the nerves, Us insists.

"Someone else will connect the nerves. She's very enterprising. I have the utmost faith in her."

Us nudges him. You are being somewhat unprofessional, friend.

"Oh." Tav weighs the accusation. "Yes, I suppose I am. I'd apologize but, well. I've actually been to the helm before. I'm getting a bit annoyed by it."

Us is quiet for a long moment. I do not understand.

"Have a look through my memories if you like. I'm just going to have a nap while you do that, though. Night, kid."

Tav shuts his eyes. Dozes. Drifts.

He's just awake enough to enjoy dreams and reality simultaneously after the gentle pressure of Us taking him up on the offer to peruse his thoughts fades out.

This dream is sort of a nice one. Wyll's in it. Tav sits at his side, mug of ale in hand.

It occurs to him to show off a bit. "Hold my ale," he tells Wyll, and then he begins to hover.

But someone's hands are on Tav's shoulder, trying to pull him back to the ground. "Quit it," Tav hisses, and tries to knock those hands away.

"Wake up," says Wyll. "Tav, this is not the time to sleep in!"

Strange. Wyll's voice is coming from behind Tav, not from Wyll's seat on the riverbank.

"Do you hear that?" Tav asks Wyll. "That ghost is very good at impersonating you."

Wyll looks confused. "If there is a ghost, Tav, I can neither see nor hear it."

"It's right behind me," Tav insists. "It's trying to fuck up my flight trajectory."

"Is it a flight trajectory if you're only hovering?" Wyll asks.

"They're definitely the same thing."

"I think you'll find they have different connotations," Wyll says, finger raised. Wyll often raises a finger when dispensing wisdom.

It's quite endearing. Tav is oft endeared.

The ghost gives another tug. "Please wake up. I would rather you not perish in the wreck."

This is when Tav wakes up. He makes a noise befitting someone just waking up which is mostly made of consonants and confusion.

Then he sits up, eyes wide. "Wyll?"

"The very same," says Wyll, with about as much good humour warranted in such circumstances. "Good to have you with us. I fear we are in dire straits - but there is a chance we right this ship, and I would see us take it."

"Yeah. Yeah, I was going to sit this round ou-" But Tav can't do that to Wyll. It's Wyll.

Wyll - and also Karlach, come to think of it - are some of those rare examples of good people that do not make Tav want to electrocute himself. Instead they make him want to do better.

Tav believes this is what is known as "cruel and unusual punishment."

Thing is, Tav's done a lot of work to accept being as horrible as he is, to hone his horrible qualities, to keep them sharp as a githyanki blade, and here Wyll and Karlach are being good bloody examples who don't even have the grace to be annoying about it.

Well, here Wyll is. Karlach's in the general vicinity, but her hereness is less... here.

"Never mind what I was just saying," says Tav wearily. "I know the way to the helm. I'll show you, shall I?"

Wyll looks about to laugh, but before Tav can get to wondering why, he nods, and makes a rather princely gesture in what is actually precisely the right direction. "By all means, lead the way."

Perhaps Wyll studied illithid architecture at some point.

Or could just be a coincidence. Who knows.

Tav's pace is tethered to his malaise. He drags himself through the ship like a weight chained to his own leg.

Wyll is ahead at first. Lae'zel is gone and the imps are already dead - there is no barrier between Wyll, those trailing him, and the fulfillment of their helmic aspirations.

No barrier save Tav.

Wyll turns at first with impatience. "I beg you keep up. Our time here is short, and we have already been delayed."

"Sure." Tav tries to force pep into his step. Pep doesn't take, so he tries next for urgency.

Urgency doesn't take. Wyll casts a glance over his shoulder again.

Tav expects another round of impatience. But no, this is a different side of the hero - Wyll looks perturbed.

There is a pause of the sort that makes Tav squirm. He senses he is being worried about. Likely sincerely, hence the squirming.

"Are you injured, Tav?"

"Physically? No." Tav pushes himself into a very light jog. I am not stuck in a time loop, says the jog. All is well, says the jog. Please continue on without me if need be, as I am far less in shape than I look, says the jog. "Er. Fight or flight instinct might be on vacation."

"I am familiar with the feeling," Wyll admits. "When one spends much of their time courting danger, I fear one risks becoming inured to it."

"You don't know the half of it," Tav says. He would sigh, but he's trying to preserve his energy. Speaking is enough trouble as it is. "We should get As- Assistance. Er. Break some more people out of pods...?"

Imps materialize in their path.

Wyll stabs one aspect of the imp blockade through the heart, and over his shoulder, as easily as he were not exerting himself at all, says: "If we see any other captives are conscious, we may free them. I wish that we could do more, but we have little time. The ship is falling fast."

Tav has the grace to feel a bit of nap related guilt just then. Most of his guilt is busy elsewhere, though, because he's just realized he must have left his flute and little crossbow where he'd been taking said nap. Which is sort of nap related guilt, but only tangentially. "I know where someone is. Couple rooms away. I... was moved."

Us savages an imp with their claws.

Wyll skewers another. "They will have a better chance of survival if the ship does not dash itself on the rocks of Avernus."

"They're claustrophobic," Tav lies. Well, he isn't certain it's a lie.

"And how would being buried in rubble serve them?" The imps have been dealt with. Wyll places a hand on Tav's shoulder.

It is firm. Reassuring.

If Tav didn't know Wyll, he'd feel a bit condescended to.

"Your friend will be alright, Tav. I swear it."

"Ally," Tav corrects out of reflex.

Wyll's lips twitch with amusement. "Very well. Your ally will be alright. Eventually."

And then Wyll takes Tav's hand, and their pace grows breakneck. A rush to the helm. Tav has barely the time passing through room after room to note that Shadowheart has been freed from her pod.

That's something. That's-

They reach the helm and ah, good. There's Shadowheart, there's Lae'zel, there's-

Cambions. Two whole extra bloody cambions.

They'd been advancing on the others but now they turn on Wyll and Tav.

Wyll is ready. Tav not so much.

The whole left the flute and crossbow somewhere else problem rears its ugly head yet again.

Fuck it. Bard mode. He can still whistle. Or sing, if everyone he's loyal to in this fight ends up killed or deafened.

Tav can in fact sing quite well. It's only out of an interest in the preservation of allied hearing and sanity that he doesn't.

It's not that his vocals are discordant, exactly. It's more that they're a bit maddening. Tav might have had a great great grandmother that was a harpy or something. Some gene that opted out of the family line until the time came for him to be born. He's not worked out how to control it yet.

He's actually given up on working out how to control it.

So. Whistling. Whistling is bad, but not as bad. It helps that Tav is legitimately sort of terrible at whistling. He can pull it off six times out of ten.

He's about to start when a fireball comes out of nowhere.

-

"Pod. Hello, pod. You're supposed to be opening."

The pod doesn't listen.

"Excuse me, pod." Tav bangs on the glass.

Yet again, no response from the pod.

"Well. Fine. See if I care."

Tav sits in his pod for the duration of this loop. It's... not great, but it's a little novel. Good to know random things can go wrong that hadn't before.

-

Tav wakes in his pod.

Tav thinks alright, might as well give it another go.

Tav gets into a fight with an illithid he's never seen before and loses.

The novelty of loops being a tad unpredictable wears off quick.

-

Tav wakes in his pod.

Tav makes a beeline for Lae'zel. He looks for Wyll all the while, hoping he might come out of the woodwork early or something. Hoping unpredictability might work in Tav's favour for once.

No such luck.

Tav and the company he and Lae'zel gather go to the helm.

Tav gets gored by some porcine hellion's tusks.

Tav bleeds out on the floor.

-

Tav wakes in his pod.

Tav is knocked off the ship by turbulence before he can even say hello to Lae'zel.

As he falls, he gets to wondering if maybe novelty is actually a bad thing. Maybe the fact that this can get worse is not something Tav should be happy about.

-

Tav wakes in his pod.

Tav goes through the motions.

Tav and company go to the helm.

Tav only gets shot a little bit.

Shadowheart connects the nerves.

So far so good.

Tav falls, and wakes on the beach.

It seems they've all been scattered by the crash. Lae'zel's nowhere to be seen. The others aren't either. Tav is about to wake Shadowheart when he remembers the predicament Gale was in the first time they'd all met, and that becomes his top priority.

Unfortunately Tav has forgotten about the intellect devourers milling about in the ship's burning remains.

He doesn't keep his distance.

It is a very short fight.

-

Tav wakes in his pod.

Things are a bit tenser than usual this time. Because Tav knows he can make it to the beach, at least in theory, he is determined to do so. He is also a bit devastated at his prior inability to remain alive on the beach, which manages to throw him off enough that there are several near misses as he makes his way there this time.

Someone (Tav isn't even certain who, as he's busy trying not to die when it happens) does manage to connect the nerves of the transponder, and the ship goes crashing onto the beach.

Tav goes crashing with it.

Thank Tymora, he thinks, when he opens his eyes to find he is once again somewhat covered in sand.

With some effort - his muscles ache, his bones creak, he feels a hundred years older than he is - Tav pushes himself into a sitting position.

There's Wyll. Wyll is running toward him.

Tav blinks. More novelty, it seems. At least this is the good sort.

Wyll stops at where Shadowheart lies first. He kneels to rouse her.

Tav decides he's not really needed for this and slumps backward onto the sand. Then Tav remembers the plight of Gale and sits bolt upright again. Pushes himself to his feet.

He sways a bit. Not because he's infirm, but because his balance hasn't really come back yet.

Gods, he used to be so poised. So bloody catlike. And now look at him.

"Excuse me! Hi, we haven't met before, but I happen to know of someone nearby in need of our assistance." He recalls Lae'zel in the tiefling trap. "A few someones, actually."

Wyll smiles. It's an interesting smile. Some combination of amusement and relief, or else just amusement born of relief. "Of course. Allow me to introduce myself. The Blade of Frontiers, at your service."

"Charmed. I'm Tav. Let's get to it, shall we?"

"Of course. I take it you're unharmed?"

"Mm. Mhm. Bit groggy, but. No rest for the wicked," Tav tells him sagely. "You know."

"No rest for the wicked indeed. I suppose you're casting yourself as the wicked, then?"

"It's all about perspective," says Tav sagely, as if this means anything at all. Sometimes Tav just says things. If one says things with enough conviction they tend to go unchallenged, either because you've been believed by default or because people don't feel arguing with you is worth the headache. "You're good to travel together, yes?"

"It would be my honour."

"Great," says Tav. "I'm sure it would be my honour too, if I had any. Let's get moving. There's some-"

"Intellect devourers?" Wyll shakes his head. "Cleared out. Before you awoke, I imagine."

"Oh. Good. Well, there's also a wi-"

"The wizard trapped in the rune? He and another ally of ours have gone on ahead to free Lae'zel."

"Oh. Well, we should go and free our gi- Hm? What?"

"All of our band is present and accounted for save one," Wyll tells him. "And we will find her at first light, I swear it. She must not face violence at the hands of her pursuers."

"Hm." Tav kicks a rock. It rolls about a foot before coming to a stop by the unseeing eyes of some mangled fisherman. "Right. Okay."

"We must first see to the safety of the grove."

Tav frowns. "Yeah." His mental processors are working overtime. Something is... weird.

Wait a fucking moment.

"How do you know my name?"

Wyll blinks. Smiles at Tav. "You just introduced yourself."

"But I mean-"

The Blade ducks his head. He still looks amused, but Tav catches the way his eyes dart behind him to where Shadowheart stands listening. "Let us speak on it later. The safety of the grove must be our priority."

And then Wyll offers Tav a hand and Tav, after a moment of undignified staring, takes it.