Darkblossom strikes again!
And, honestly, I’m kinda getting the same vibes between Egeria and Darkblossom as I do with Shadowheart and my Baldur’s Gate characters whenever I’m being a relentless Do-Gooder — especially when said relentless Do-Gooder is a Lore Bard, which is probably the closest thing to describe Egeria at this point.
Copyright J.B. Norman
Amara watches Egeria watching the dark-haired Elven priestess. Egeria has taken it upon herself to compile all of the world’s knowledge into a single text, as the famous Sibylla of Isidorus did centuries previously.
Egeria’s latest object of both general fascination and feverish study has been the priestess Darkblossom. For her part, the haughty priestess of the darkness goddess Riqis, has been much pleased to find an avenue to further spread the word of her goddess.
Amara watches in amazement, finding the entire scene before her utterly bizarre. Her innocent, gregarious country mouse of a cousin and the imperious, easily and perpetually offended priestess have been getting along impossibly well.
Darkblossom has not directed even one of those haughty head-tosses of hers at Egeria.
Egeria looks up from the reams of notes she’s been taking.
“So, uh, Miss um… Dark,” Egeria says. “Why don’t y’all tell me about more ’bout why this here Riqis is such a great goddess.”
“O ye most industrious scholar,” Darkblossom answers, “The will of My Lady Riqis is as inexorable as the nightfall and terrible as the dawn! She weaves the skein of secrets that Men fear to become ensnared by.”
“Now, is that Men like People in General,” Egeria asks, pointing with her pen. “Or is that Men like Male People Specifically?”
Egeria thoughtfully taps her chin with her pen and then her face lights up with a broad smile.
“Could it be that the great goddess Riqis thinks boys is gross?” Egeria asks. “Gosh, don’t she sound like Amara.”
Egeria’s smile broadens.
“Course, there’s at least one boy Amara don’t seem to mind,” Egeria notes, glancing at her cousin.
Now, it’s Amara who haughtily tosses her head with a huff.
Egeria leans in close to Darkblossom. “See, Amara likes to think there ain’t no one wise to it — but she ain’t exactly no weaver o’ no skein or secrets. Fact is, it’s plain as day that she’s sweet on our Nolan.”
“Which one is Nolan?” Darkblossom asks, familiar in passing with the Lyte Brigade from their previous travels together, but remaining aloof for the sake of her mystique to avoid remembering them. “The disgustingly noble and helpful one? Or the one that wouldn’t stop talking about his Cousin Eleutherius?”
“That reminds me,” Egeria says, making a quick note in the margins of one of her pages. “I really must oughta sit Sir Tancred down an’ have him tell me a thing or two ’bout Cousin Eleutherius.”
She looks back up.
Darkblossom leans thoughtfully back in her chair. “Yes,” she muses. “He was rather exasperating. But I sense potential in him. I can fix him — I shall induct him into the Mysteries of the Night and he shall become the foremost champion of the great goddess Riqis!”
Amara surges to her feet. “Don’t you dare!” she cries. “If anyone is to fix Nolan. It will be me! Powers help me, I will get it through that thick, lustrous, glorious hair of his and he will learn which fork to use for which course of a meal.”
Darkblossom’s jaw drops. Not since the sermons of the Arch-Lectors of the Third Sanctuary of the Sisterhood of the Creeping Venom as she heard anyone speak with such absolute conviction. In fact, she finds herself respecting Amara’s devotion, even if it is directed at Nolan, rather the great great goddess Riqis to whom all mortals should offer up their fearful supplications.
Amara winces when she realises she just said that. Loudly. In a swoon, she sinks back in her chair and covers her face in her hands.
Egeria leans back in towards Darkblossom. “See? Amara don’t like it when she think’s someone else is goin’ after her man.”
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