Fic: tonight there'll be but three
Feb. 17th, 2018 06:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beekeeperofedenThis was supposed to be a fill for scratchedagain on the AU meme ("In Herding Cats, how would they all respond should one (or several) of them at some point realize they would like to have children?"), but the characters refused to play along. I think I set it too early in the timeline, so that's a conversation that'll have to wait for another day.
Summary: Still on the road norththis AU is an eternal roadtrip, Dahlia struggles with emotions about motherhood and finds solace in her companions. Meanwhile, Jarlaxle asks prying questions. Herding Cats AU.
Wordcount: 860
It's too dangerous to stay near Luskan, but Dahlia is wishing for civilization nonetheless. Isolation on the road is a crucible for everything fragile between her and her companions. She doesn't know what to do with Effron any more than he does with her, and they switch from eggshell peace to mutual hatred as the wind shifts.
Today, the wind had shrieked down from the mountains with cold fury.
Dahlia's always solved these problems with a single tool. She's not sure if a second time would fix anything and she's already killed Effron once, but her shoulders ache from holding back the urge to try it again.
She doesn't realize she's staring across the camp until a quiet voice interrupts her thoughts.
"Do you regret it?"
Of course it's Jarlaxle who asks. Dahlia's first instinct, you don't get to ask those questions, falters at the expression on his face. She's seen him curious, she's him try guileless—this is the first time he's ever looked wistful.
No—it's the second. And it's the memory of that first that stays her hand. That, and the careful stillness of Artemis, sitting close against the cold. Not doing anything, but listening in case she wants him to. Drizzt, on the other side of the fire, looks as though he might understand why Jarlaxle asked, and that's comforting in its own way.
"At the time, I thought I had no choice." Her own voice sounds weak in her ears. "Looking back...I still do not think I did. I wish things had been different. But that isn't the same as regret."
Jarlaxle nods at that, as if he understands. Perhaps he does.
"The matrons of my home sacrifice their third sons to Lloth." He's staring at the stars now. "If they ever regret it, they hide it well."
"Sacrifice?" He'd said it so casually, Dahlia wonders if she misheard.
"As quickly as possible after birth." He draws a line across his chest with a finger, as if slicing it open. Artemis doesn't seem sickened or even surprised, which is predictable. Less predictably, Drizzt isn't either, and that turns her blood to ice. She stops looking for something in Drizzt's face that isn't there and thinks about what Jarlaxle had said.
Birth had been exhausting, painful. She had only dragged herself to the cliff afterward through fury and repulsion so fierce that it burned. She tries to imagine what drives the priestesses to their own cliffs.
"Perhaps it's easier after two," she muses. Jarlaxle chuckles at that. Artemis scoffs. Drizzt, finally, looks appalled.
"If that's the case, you would seem to have an advantage on ruthlessness." Presented with an opportunity to be macabre, Artemis doesn't disappoint. "Should you ever have a second, you can punt it across a canyon."
Drizzt looks even more dismayed, and Jarlaxle manages to seem mildly put out. Dahlia laughs so hard that her ribs hurt. Startled by the shrieking, Effron looks at them, radiating offended bafflement, and that only makes her laugh harder.
Drizzt looks increasingly concerned as she clutches her side and lets the giggles run their course, and she wonders if he's really never hated someone enough to enjoy the image of them falling off something tall. More likely he has, while strenuously pretending otherwise. It's a little endearing even as it worries her.
She reaches out and squeezes his hand, and he smiles a little.
"I take it then, that I should not ask you to babysit?" Jarlaxle grins at Artemis, firelight making his eye glitter.
"I'll teach them all to steal," Artemis threatens. "You'll get them back and never see any of your jewelry again."
Jarlaxle gives a wounded sigh. "Just as well I have no offspring, I suppose."
"Are you certain?" Artemis' tone is the odd, almost-jealous grumble that he doesn't seem to have about any of Dahlia's old lovers. She makes eye contact with Drizzt, and it's clear he heard it, too.
"Quite." Jarlaxle's voice goes so lofty she's sure there's a story behind it. "Leaving a string of bastards is for people with less expertise than I."
"Of course." Artemis rolls his eyes. "Otherwise you could have doubled the ranks of Bregan D'aerthe single-handed by now."
She imagines a small hoard of drow and half-drow children, all of them bald and cackling like imps. It's a surprisingly pleasant image. Artemis shudders exaggeratedly, perhaps at a similar thought.
Jarlaxle's visible eye widens. "Not single-handed, I'm sure."
Artemis groans and buries his face in her neck, but she can feel him shake in silent laughter. She kisses the top of his head, just because it's there and she can, and entangles her fingers with Drizzt's because he's still too far away to kiss. She can feel Jarlaxle's gaze on all of them, sharp and hungry.
She smiles back at him, neither an invitation nor a rejection, but a warning.
She's pried this slice of happiness out of life by her fingernails and if he breaks that (like she knows he can, he has destruction on his breath like smoke) through careless ambition—
—she will use the tool that has served her so well until now, and destroy him.
scratchedagain on the AU meme ("In Herding Cats, how would they all respond should one (or several) of them at some point realize they would like to have children?"), but the characters refused to play along. I think I set it too early in the timeline, so that's a conversation that'll have to wait for another day.Summary: Still on the road north
Wordcount: 860
It's too dangerous to stay near Luskan, but Dahlia is wishing for civilization nonetheless. Isolation on the road is a crucible for everything fragile between her and her companions. She doesn't know what to do with Effron any more than he does with her, and they switch from eggshell peace to mutual hatred as the wind shifts.
Today, the wind had shrieked down from the mountains with cold fury.
Dahlia's always solved these problems with a single tool. She's not sure if a second time would fix anything and she's already killed Effron once, but her shoulders ache from holding back the urge to try it again.
She doesn't realize she's staring across the camp until a quiet voice interrupts her thoughts.
"Do you regret it?"
Of course it's Jarlaxle who asks. Dahlia's first instinct, you don't get to ask those questions, falters at the expression on his face. She's seen him curious, she's him try guileless—this is the first time he's ever looked wistful.
No—it's the second. And it's the memory of that first that stays her hand. That, and the careful stillness of Artemis, sitting close against the cold. Not doing anything, but listening in case she wants him to. Drizzt, on the other side of the fire, looks as though he might understand why Jarlaxle asked, and that's comforting in its own way.
"At the time, I thought I had no choice." Her own voice sounds weak in her ears. "Looking back...I still do not think I did. I wish things had been different. But that isn't the same as regret."
Jarlaxle nods at that, as if he understands. Perhaps he does.
"The matrons of my home sacrifice their third sons to Lloth." He's staring at the stars now. "If they ever regret it, they hide it well."
"Sacrifice?" He'd said it so casually, Dahlia wonders if she misheard.
"As quickly as possible after birth." He draws a line across his chest with a finger, as if slicing it open. Artemis doesn't seem sickened or even surprised, which is predictable. Less predictably, Drizzt isn't either, and that turns her blood to ice. She stops looking for something in Drizzt's face that isn't there and thinks about what Jarlaxle had said.
Birth had been exhausting, painful. She had only dragged herself to the cliff afterward through fury and repulsion so fierce that it burned. She tries to imagine what drives the priestesses to their own cliffs.
"Perhaps it's easier after two," she muses. Jarlaxle chuckles at that. Artemis scoffs. Drizzt, finally, looks appalled.
"If that's the case, you would seem to have an advantage on ruthlessness." Presented with an opportunity to be macabre, Artemis doesn't disappoint. "Should you ever have a second, you can punt it across a canyon."
Drizzt looks even more dismayed, and Jarlaxle manages to seem mildly put out. Dahlia laughs so hard that her ribs hurt. Startled by the shrieking, Effron looks at them, radiating offended bafflement, and that only makes her laugh harder.
Drizzt looks increasingly concerned as she clutches her side and lets the giggles run their course, and she wonders if he's really never hated someone enough to enjoy the image of them falling off something tall. More likely he has, while strenuously pretending otherwise. It's a little endearing even as it worries her.
She reaches out and squeezes his hand, and he smiles a little.
"I take it then, that I should not ask you to babysit?" Jarlaxle grins at Artemis, firelight making his eye glitter.
"I'll teach them all to steal," Artemis threatens. "You'll get them back and never see any of your jewelry again."
Jarlaxle gives a wounded sigh. "Just as well I have no offspring, I suppose."
"Are you certain?" Artemis' tone is the odd, almost-jealous grumble that he doesn't seem to have about any of Dahlia's old lovers. She makes eye contact with Drizzt, and it's clear he heard it, too.
"Quite." Jarlaxle's voice goes so lofty she's sure there's a story behind it. "Leaving a string of bastards is for people with less expertise than I."
"Of course." Artemis rolls his eyes. "Otherwise you could have doubled the ranks of Bregan D'aerthe single-handed by now."
She imagines a small hoard of drow and half-drow children, all of them bald and cackling like imps. It's a surprisingly pleasant image. Artemis shudders exaggeratedly, perhaps at a similar thought.
Jarlaxle's visible eye widens. "Not single-handed, I'm sure."
Artemis groans and buries his face in her neck, but she can feel him shake in silent laughter. She kisses the top of his head, just because it's there and she can, and entangles her fingers with Drizzt's because he's still too far away to kiss. She can feel Jarlaxle's gaze on all of them, sharp and hungry.
She smiles back at him, neither an invitation nor a rejection, but a warning.
She's pried this slice of happiness out of life by her fingernails and if he breaks that (like she knows he can, he has destruction on his breath like smoke) through careless ambition—
—she will use the tool that has served her so well until now, and destroy him.