#rakha is having Complicated Emotions today

[blackjackkent]

Might as well go in and have our talk with Jaheira first (Hector missed it bc he went to Isobel first, lol). Going into Last Light is... depressing.

Rakha did not keep Rolan and his siblings at the Grove. Consequently, they were not around to help save people during the tieflings' trip through the Shadowlands.

And therefore Mattis is not here. None of the children besides Mol are, in fact. Neither is Alfira. :( :( :( :( This is upsetting! Way to go, Rakha.

Jaheira has been watching Rakha closely since she came in the door of the inn. "Please. Be welcome," she says, with a smile that does not quite reach her eyes. "Have a drink." She gestures with the wine glass in her hand at another, full of deep red liquid, on the table in front of her. "To your very good health."

Rakha picks up the glass and eyes it skeptically. She is familiar with wine, of course; they have had more than one bottle of it in their supplies from time to time, often scavenged from the crates of various enemies. This, she suspects, is a higher-quality brew, if it came from the inn's stocks.

She also knows, however, the effect that it has - blurred thoughts and unsteady movement, a tendency towards poor judgment and loose speech. (She remembers the teeth-lings, drunk and hectic and happy in camp, the gushing thanks for what she did for them...) It has never made her comfortable, and this is not a place where she can be safe in such things.

"I'm not thirsty," she says flatly.

"Indulge me," Jaheira says, equally flat, raising one eyebrow.

Rakha doesn't answer, just gives a short, sharp shake of her head and sets the glass back down.

Decline to drink.

Jaheira snorts softly, then shrugs. "You don't know what you're missing," she says, and takes a casual sip from her own glass before setting it down as well. "Well over a century old, and yet it hasn't lost a hint of flavor."

She squints at Rakha thoughtfully. "Still not quite so sure about you, though. People tend to lose more than just flavor when illithids get their hands on them. I speak from experience. There's an air about you - something alien." She leans her knuckles on the table and her lips draw into a tight line. "Answer me true and do not lie - the parasite is changing you, isn't it?"

(A/N: Interesting set of options here. There are three possible responses: "Yes, it's changing me for the better," "It's trying but I'm resisting," and a flat "No, it has no influence whatsoever." Interestingly, the middle one is marked as a deception check (at disadvantage because Rakha has been using the worms for [ILLITHID] checks), but both the first and third aren't even though they're directly contradictory.

Rakha doesn't tend to lie - she is always direct about the actual state of things and lets the other person decide if it's something they have a problem with. The question here is really what she even thinks about her own use of the tadpoles. Fundamentally, her use of them has been driven by the guardian's behavior - her insistence that Rakha must learn to wield the tadpole's power (without transforming to it) in order to be strong enough to fight the Absolute. So ultimately that is what drives her answer here I think.)

"Yes," she admits, still carefully calm and matter-of-fact. "The parasite is giving me powers I never had before. It's changing me for the better."

She suspects Jaheira won't like this answer, and she is correct.

The Harper's hand snaps up again, that same golden glow shimmering around her fingers that she held out in the courtyard, just before locking Rakha's feet to the ground with vines. For a moment, anger flares across her expression, and Rakha's hand settles on one of the quarterstaves at her back as she feels the Weave strain and spasm at the surge of energy.

But then the moment eases. Jaheira scowls, lets her hand fall to her side again. The glow fades, the Weave settles.

"Look around you," Jaheira mutters. "Good men, good women, stranded here - two feet in the grave. If we're to survive, I have no choice but to trust you. Can I?"

A valid question, and Rakha considers it in silence for a moment as the magic fades out from around them.

She remembers the moment Astarion tried to bite her, some weeks ago now. He has asked her then whether she trusted him, despite the danger he posed, the uncertainty of his motivations. And she said she did - because their enemies were the same, both externally and within their own minds.

This is the same question in reverse. And Rakha's answer is the same - because again, they share a common enemy. And Rakha has learned - from Wyll, from Lae'zel - to focus her ire on those she can kill with purpose.

It does not matter, perhaps, that she has little interest in whether Jaheira survives or not. What matters is that she will not be the one to kill her. "You can trust me," she says.

"Good," Jaheira says bluntly, "because I'll cross your heart myself if you break it." But she has relaxed a little, her stance loosening from its battle-ready hunch. "I have every reason to be cautious," she goes on. "I've tracked people like you, people with parasites in their brains, all the way here from Baldur's Gate. The cult of the Absolute is spreading through the city - quietly, quickly, and with unsettling deliberation. We tracked them to this ancient village, only to be faced with a man we killed and buried over a century ago."

Rakha tilts her head, her expression focusing in abruptly. This is new information, potential answers. "Who was - is - he?" she asks.

"General Ketheric Thorm." Jaheira growls the name out like a curse. "Remember that name. He's the leader of the Absolutists. He was a Sharran once - took to building an army of Dark Justiciars beneath this very village. Alongside the local druids, we made it our business to see him deposed - dead and buried."

Rakha nods slightly. This correlates with what Halsin has told her of this place. The name Thorm is familiar from Halsin's stories; he is the one responsible for the shadow curse and its corruption of the Weave here.

"But he's returned," Jaheira goes on. "Not only does General Ketheric Thorm live again, it seems he is no longer mortal. He has become, in fact, invincible. We met him on the road here - commanding an army of the Absolute, intent on destroying Baldur's Gate. I put an arrow through his eye myself, only to watch him pluck it out like a splinter." She scowls bitterly. "He healed right in front of me and chased us into the shadows. Things looked hopeless, but experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there's always hope."

She looks at Rakha unblinkingly. "You are that hope."

Rakha says nothing for a moment. Then, low, "It's rare people look at me and see 'hope'."

She feels as unbalanced by it as she did by Mol's assertions out in the courtyard. I'd pretty much trust her with my life. It feels strange and uncomfortable to be an object of optimism. She is a broken killer, unmoored and dangerous...

Perhaps Jaheira sees something of the thoughts behind this statement, because she quirks an eyebrow up again and smiles faintly. "The light is rather dim, out here in the shadowlands. The point remains - protected by your artifact, you can infiltrate his forces at Moonrise Towers, posing as a True Soul. Find out what it is that makes him invincible so we can strip him of his advantage." Her eyes narrow with sudden fierce determination. "Once Ketheric is without his shield, the sword - together we assault his tower and put a final end to this blight."

It is hard to gauge to what extent she actually approves of Rakha, or if she simply sees her as a means to an end. Rakha doesn't really care. This is the information she needs, the direct guidance she has hoped to obtain from this cautious alliance.

The man at the center of the cult, the man on whom she needs to wreak her vengeance, has a name.

"Ketheric's days are numbered," she says, and the growl of the beast resonates under the words. "I'll make sure of it."

Jaheira considers her thoughtfully. "Without a cure for your infection, your days are numbered too. Yet you selflessly offer to spend them fighting alongside us." She nods suddenly, as if coming to a decision. "I like you. I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you survive this."

Rakha says nothing. She feels a strange urge to flinch away from these words, as if they are an attack, as if they hurt. Jaheira does not understand her, does not know anything about her. She does not know that Rakha's willingness to help comes from a wellspring of rage and pain. She does not know the beast's hunger for blood.

Well, she will know soon enough. Until then... Rakha will not dissuade her.

Jaheira herself seems somewhat uncomfortable with the momentary dip into sentimentality, for she goes on more brusquely at once. "Any cure starts with understanding the disease. Whatever magic Ketheric's using to control these tadpoles, it must be at Moonrise."

Rakha relaxes, relieved by the shift to more practical matters. "How do I reach him? The Towers are surrounded by shadows."

"You're not our only secret weapon," Jaheira answers. "Isobel - a faithful cleric of Selune and a light in the darkness. She cast the moon shield around the inn; it's the only reason we're still alive. She's upstairs in her chambers. Tell her I sent you, and she'll see you through the shadows safely."