just remembered that at the end of the last session our drow cleric rolled the exact same initiative as her double that she’s about to fight.... poetic
Oh geez! Here it is: my shamelessly self-indulgent angst about a bit of my dnd character’s backstory. This is the first bit of my writing I’ve ever posted online, so please be kind.
Also, long live Ben and Jerry’s Good Time Boys, and also Laurel our DM.
Another dinner at the Ardulvyrae’s. Another night where Cal was forced to stuff herself into corset and high shirt-collar, expected to mimic her mother’s secretive, predatory smile and leave her long hair loose to tangle at her back. Another night of her sister staring daggers into the back of her skull, only thinly veiled during her conversations with other nobles. Another political dinner—it must have been the third one that week.
Small talk over food was stifling, as always. It was incredibly difficult to keep up with the names people dropped, the districts they hailed from, and the issues they spoke of, all while trying to avoid committing any number of etiquette faux-pas. Dancing was uncomfortable, to say the least. The usually enjoyable activity was ruined by Cal’s dance partners: a rotating slew of other young nobles, blurred together in a mass of sour wine-breath and overly-familiar hands. Cal was finally able to slip out to the courtyard, unnoticed, under the guise of enjoying her expensive wine more fully in open air.
(Cal knew, likely better than anyone in the hall, that this wine tasted exactly the same whether it was imbibed in a basement kitchen or on a palace balcony.)
Out of eyeshot of the windows, Cal downed her glass, set it on a nearby bench, and made her way deeper into the courtyard. The hem of her silver dress dragged on the stones of the path as she walked, shoes in hand, to her favorite spot under a tree at the edge of the garden.
A few blissful minutes of peace passed by. Cal watched the four globes of her dancing lights swirl above her head as she lay in the moss, the sounds of merriment filtering through the plants between her and the house. When she heard delicate footsteps approaching, she heaved a deep sigh and let the lights blink out.
“What are you doing, Calestio?” Her sister, Mizpassa, came into view, back straight and corset stays tightened despite the lack of eyes on her.
“Taking a breather, Miz,” Cal said from her place on the ground. “Do you care to join me?”
“Ilharess sent me to find you. You are missed inside.” From her tone of voice, it was clear that Miz wasn’t doing the missing.
“Do I really need to go right now? It’s exhausting in there.”
Miz scoffed. “I do not know what I expected. The patience Ilharess has for you never ceases to amaze me.”
Uneasy silence fell over the sisters as they stayed, unmoving, in the dim light of the knif trees.
“Miz?” Cal broke the stalemate, her voice soft.
“Yes, sister?”
“We don’t have to hate each other, you know.”
“I do not hate you, Calestio.”
Cal sat up, brow furrowed. “You don’t like me, either.”
Miz chuckled quietly in response. “If I do not have to hate you, I do not have to like you.”
“Miz, please, stop taking this out on me.” Cal stood up, level with her younger sister, despite her bare feet—neither woman was tall, but the few inches Cal had on Mizpassa had been a sore spot for her, growing up. “You know it’s not my fault, I hate it as much as you do—”
“Then do something about it. Tell Ilharess that you do not want her spot on the council. Join the church of Lolth. Study harder to live up to your responsibilities, even. I do not care what you do, as long as it stops you from dishonoring our house with your inadequacy.”
“Do you think I haven’t tried, Miz? Ilhar won’t listen! We all know I won’t last two minutes in a council meeting. I hate everyone in there, and everything they talk about. You’re smarter than me, and more cunning, and I don’t understand why she won’t just let you do it!”
“You were always her favorite, Calestio. Ilharess is just too stubborn to admit that she chose the wrong child.”
Cal paused, taken aback by her sister’s bluntness. It stung. Cal didn’t understand what had happened over the last few decades. She and her sister used to be fairly close, in their youth. Now, on the rare occasion they talked, it always felt like they were having two different conversations. She just wanted to understand how to fix things.
“What do you want from me, Mizpassa?”
“What do I want? Let me see, Calestio.” Miz’s eyes burned as she counted off on her fingers. “I would like to be recognized for my prowess. I would like a modicum of responsibility to be given to me. I would like not to be overlooked and ignored in favor of my eldest sibling.” She shoved a pointed finger into Cal’s chest, and her voice dripped with saccharine jealousy as she declared: “If I cannot have any of that, I would at least like a sister who does not shirk her duties as an Ardulvyrae.”
Cal stepped back like she’d been slapped, holding her breath and blinking back tears. “Funny, Miz. I’d like any sister at all.”
“Vith’ir, waele elg’caress!” Miz snarled as she turned to storm back to the party unaccompanied.
“Vith’ir, ichl! ” Cal called back. “You know what, sister? One day, I’ll get you what you want!”
