An AU @vetranox and I cooked up because I’m terrible. Be gentle I’m tired.
Odell belongs to her! ••••••••••••••••••••••• It had been a relatively quiet evening in the temple to the Raven Queen, a small monastery on the edge of a mostly human city. Things had just began to die down, candles lit to provide a soft glow amongst the various dark fabrics adorning the ebony pews and the humble altar to the goddess of death. There hadn’t been too many funerals that day and the evening prayers had already been said, all of the monks were relatively at ease this day. Only when a freezing gale blew the doors open with a loud slam did the members of this temple begin to truly focus, one clergy member ducking into the shadows as he set the tome he had been reading down.
A tall and lithe figure stumbled through the doorway, covered in blood. One of his arms -a limb that pulsed a sickly red, and seemed to be made of stone- clutched at the other as it dangled lifelessly at a horrible angle. The monk who had delved into the shadows locked eyes with the figure who fell to his knees coughing harshly. Blood splattered the ornate rug below the man, who now could be seen as a rather tall drow, dressed in a cloak of dark purple feathers, the front of his tunic embroidered heavily. All of the clergy members present could instantly tell he was of noble cloth, including the one locking gazes with him.
But the reason why he had chosen their monastery to walk into? They could not glean.
His crimson eyes fluttered shut as he slumped even farther forward onto the rug, breaking the gaze of the monk, who darted forward as a few of the others did as well. This man, a drow too, got to their visitor first and slipped a vial from within his robes. The contents were gingerly poured down the barely conscious man’s throat and healed him just enough to get his breathing to even out, his body relaxing in the monk’s grip.
Strange how the place of worship for a goddess of death would be the salvation of this man.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
/You cannot escape from me, welp. You belong to me and me alone/
A woman’s rasp of a voice echoed within Nen’s mind as he slept, the chains of his pact weakened just enough but clearly not so much that he could stray from /her/ entirely. Just as her fangs gleamed in the darkness of the drow kings mind he was jolted awake with a sudden sharp pain careening into the left side of his skull.
With a half hearted shout Nen bolted upright, unable to properly talk just yet as the wounds from Luna’s attack had not yet healed completely. His entire body ached but particularly the left side of his head where she had struck him with her blade. He had been such a fool to think she wouldn’t have struck out like that.
“You shouldn’t move just yet”, a voice came from the shadows of Nen’s bare room. Even with a scour of all four corners he would not be able to see whoever was talking to him in this moment, at least they were not attacking him.
“Where am I, if I may ask?” he murmured and winced at the strain on his vocal chords.
Who thought a cleric could deal such damage.
“You are in the monastery still. Odd that you picked ours to stumble into”
The voice was pleasant, soothing in fact; it made Nen want to sleep again.
“I didn’t have much of a choice. I hoped you wouldn’t be followers of some cult and walked in, seems my luck didn’t run out like I believed it had”
“Walked in? My friend you blew the doors wide open! I thought our high priest was going to break all of his holy vows when he found out your magic tore a tapestry”
A dry laugh rattled Nen’s chest, “Not the worst trouble I would have been in”
There was a brief moment of silence between the two, the drow trying his best to ascertain where the voice was coming from but it seemed that it would stay hidden -for now. The voice cleared it’s throat before speaking again.
“Do you have a name, or a title perhaps? We noticed that-”
“I dress rather well?” Nen interrupted, smiling in amusement, “I don’t know exactly how much my title helps now but I…am King Tathanien Narris of Durhelm Deep within the Underdark”
“A king you say, and being a drow at that? I offer my condolences to whatever drove you here to our temple”
There was a shock in the voice that Nen had never quite heard before, he became curious but kept it to a minimum. After all he didn’t want to uneccasarily provoke another person.
“She wouldn’t take the condolences, but I suppose it’s the thought that counts”