Sigil: The City of Doors

Mysti wanted to believe that ... what was her name again? Illiam'iira? Something like that. Hmm, she would worry about it if this girl actually showed up. The shadow rogue had been burned so many times that her trust and faith in anyone was practically non-existent. But she wanted to believe that she would show. She wasn't going to be the best company anyway -- not after her very brief meeting with Cyprian. Just to waltz in and throw years away for ... she had to keep reminding herself that none of this mattered anymore. She gave herself ... a month out there in the Blood War. In fact, she was probably giving herself way too much credit. A month? No. A day. Yes.

Not only had Mysti simply plopped into the nearest available seat at the first empty table she came to -- there were other oddities about Mysti's behavior. For one thing, she was unarmed. Completely ... unarmed. There wasn't even a throwing knife peeking out over a fold in her clothing. Nope. On top of that she was wearing plain, normal clothing - a simple dress with a ruffled v-neck, puffed sleeves and belted at the waist. Seeing Mysti in a dress was about as rare as seeing a paladin of Tyr having a drink with a pit fiend. But there she was.

And like everything else, it didn't matter to her anymore. There wasn't a person in the entire city of Sigil - literally no one - who would've been able to tell what was strange for Mysti and what wasn't. Except, of course, for Cyprian. Her behavior, strange or not, wouldn't matter on the battlefield. Would it.

Mysti ... no. She had decided to drop that, as well. Mysti had been -- HAD been -- her professional name. She was just plain ol' Felisha now. She would no longer be answering to her old name. She was done with all of that now. So ... Felisha sat alone at her table with a stein of untouched dwarven ale. She was well obscured by an inexplicable gloom that could not be explained by the lighting in the place; all of the surrounding shadows leaned at an extremely odd and disconcerting angle as if they were trying to uproot themselves and fly into the darkness surrounding Mys ... err ... Felisha's location. Something supernatural was taking place and it kept the tables around her unoccupied. Which was fine by her. She wasn't in the bloody mood to deal with any boisterous drunks or lovey couples within a mile of where she was sitting. She would have cleared out the whole damn bar if she could have.

Her head was down, her chin resting on the crook of one elbow, her dark and fathomless eyes staring unblinkingly at the door. She thought silently that she would give Illiam'iira another half hour ... until she realized ... and then what? What if Illiam'iira did not come within half an hour? What was she going to do instead? Where would she go? Home? She may as well just sit there all night for all it mattered. Thus she laid her cheek on her arm and simply sat there.

Illiam'iira slips in, looking a little worse for the wear but otherwise alive. As she crosses the doorway she pauses to consider the woman... oh, Cyprian... what did you do..? With a little breath in -- this is what you were made for, Illiam! -- she makes her way to Felisha's table.

"Hope I didn't keep you long?" Her voice is gentle. "Have you ordered a drink yet?"

Felisha watched Illi enter the tavern. Not only did she recognize Illi from the meeting earlier, the little drow was difficult to miss. It was routine for her to commit the faces of those she met to memory -- something else she would have to untrain herself from -- but the sparkles ... yes, those stood out.

She wiped her eyes with the tips of her fingers -- the way in which people do when they have been dozing. Though she couldn't remember falling asleep. It was a testament to just how emotionally and mentally exhausted she was -- that was one of the absolute worst things one could do was fall asleep in a tavern. It was a great way to wake up with all of your valuables gone and your throat slit. Well ... she figured the shadows must have kept everyone away. Or she slept with her eyes open.

"Uh ... no ... no ... I don't think I've been here long," though she may have -- this whole day had been an unmitigated nightmare. Cyprian and Akh at the meeting. Cyprian walking out on her. She was having doubts about the CIty of Brass -- might be best for someone else to go all things considered.

After running a hand through her mass of black curls, she seemed to finally bring Illi into focus. "I haven't ordered yet." She looked down at the mug of ale already on the table. "That was there when I sat down."

Even someone who didn't know Felisha could tell she was putting in an effort to be friendly -- but sometimes her voice betrayed a certain emotionless quality to it that belied just how empty she felt. "Have you ever heard of a drink called ... uh ... what was it. Oh. It's called Lilphina's Lusty Lover ... ?"

Oh. There's a flash of worry behind her eyes as Illiam sits, smoothing her skirts a bit. "Well, I'm glad I caught you. Uhm..."

She blinks, darker emotions once again hidden, replaced by something else -- something warmer, just as real and much more present. "No, I haven't! Is that what you'd like to order?"

"Uhm, I'm Illiam'iira, by the way," The drow offers her hand. "Uh, since we haven't been formally introduced."

The rogue formerly known as Mysti took Illi's hand in a rather delicate manner. "Yes, you're right we never were. I do remember you from the meeting, of course, but if we said anything to each other at all, it couldn't have been very much. I was once called Mysti," she said by way of introduction, "but I go by Felisha now -- my given name." She reached up, under her hair, to gently massage her temples. Truth be told, her head was pounding. It had been since the meeting -- the pain had been unrelenting.

"My apologies if I had been a bit -- how should I say it -- standoff-ish at the meeting. It was -- it was -- well ..."

Something happened there, after Felisha said the word "well." Her voice caught. It was severe enough to be noticeable for what it was, but Felisha did her best to talk right over it and failed. "It was too much for me when I saw ... well, never mind." Felisha heaved a deep sigh, the kind people do when trying to control emotions. At least she was able to finish the sentence, but the words came out in a whisper. She blinked a few times in rapid succession.

"Oh, the drink ... it comes in two paired bottles and each person drinks from one. And they swap minds for a couple of hours. Judging from the name, I ... I guess it works well between ... lusty lovers." She cleared her throat. "You wouldn't want my mind right now, Illiam'iira. Trust me on that one. Besides, I could never afford it. Just another plaything of the idle rich, I suppose. I don't ... I don't know what ... what made me think of that ... right now." A shrug followed.

Listening intently, Illiam'iira makes an unhappy little sound. Oh, she can guess. A knot of pain tightens in her own chest -- a hint of the great suffering from the woman across the table.

"I, uh, I did want to ask about that ... uhm..." It's hard to speak, but she's trying; after a moment Illiam stumbles over the words, "I'm guessing, uh, Cyprian broke your heart, huh?"

There's a heartbeat before she squeaks out, "Not, uhm, that you have to tell me about it! Sorry!" Feli's hand gets a gentle squeeze as Illiam'iira gives the best smile she can. "I just, uh, figured, you might need someone with you for a bit..? If you'd like..? The first few hours after... well... something like that... it sucks being alone. I've been there. NottosayIknowexactlyhowyoufeel," That last bit's wheezed out. It's very obvious she doesn't wanna stab the poor woman in the feelings.

Felisha seemed to almost stare Illiam'iira down -- but not in any sort of hostile way. If anything it was the exact opposite. There were a lot of things happening that Felisha just wasn't used to, and some emotions she had always managed to avoid. She wasn't even certain how to behave, what to say, how to act ...

Her eyes glistened in the flickering light of the tavern. It seemed that she was about to say something -- or tried to -- but instead she choked -- a sort of coughing sound when something other than words tried to leave her throat. What Illiam'iira could not have known was that Felisha had lived in Sigil for 20 years and had not heard a truly kind word from anyone. Common courtesy, sure, but that's as far as it ever went. Few people were openly rude, fewer still had been hostile. Even the bounties she often hauled back to the barracks were usually deferential in the hopes of charming her into letting them go. Business - it was always business - and when life was hard, well, she had learned how to cope without anyone to reach out to.

She couldn't even remember the last time anyone even asked how she was or how she was feeling -- everyone just assumed she was fine. Felisha had never meant to cultivate this "tough girl" personna but somehow that's what she was stuck with. But it wasn't really who she was -- Felisha was as sensitive and tender and empathic as anyone alive. But she had been pigeonholed into someone she wasn't. Thus -- just to hear warmth in someone else's voice came near to breaking the dam.

Yet ... it was obvious to Illiam'iira that Felisha was not one to give in to her emotions easily; the struggle was plain on her face. Illiam'iira could feel Felisha's hand trembling under her own. Felisha just didn't know what to do with two decades of pent-up sadness to culiminate in Cyprian.

"I shouldn't ... bore you with all of the ... insane details, but ... yes. He did." Felisha began. She had to pause as she came dangerously close to losing the battle with her own emotions. But after a few moments of silence, she seemed to recover. "I mean ... I'm not sure if I can explain this but ... you're the first person in a very, very long time to show me any ... empathy. The temptation is to just ... gush. To open one's mouth and let it all pour out like an uncontained waterfall. I don't ... want to do that to you."

She quickly wiped at the corner of her eye as some of that "glistening" threatened to seep through her lashes and out into view. Felisha had been lightning fast in catching it before it tracked down her cheek, the reaction of someone who had spent many decades mastering the art of war.

"I just ... don't ... understand ..."

Mysti wrote: ↑

Fri Aug 25, 2023 10:42 pm

"I just ... don't ... understand ..."

Carefully, carefully, Illiam'iira scoots her chair around the table to get closer to Felisha, not letting her hand leave the woman's for a second. "I mean, you can talk if you want," She answers honestly. "I know it won't be pretty, and I know it'll be a lot, because a heart breaking is a very big and painful thing, but it's harder to heal when you're alone and feel it too." Healing begins with community. She hears the words in her mother's voice. "I, uh, I don't know Cyprian very well, but... I can tell... shit went down."

Another squeeze.

"You had a lot of feelings for him. A lot. Really big ones. Right?" Maybe love. Illi doesn't wanna put words into a stranger's mouth, but she gets the feeling.

Felisha had to take another minute to compose herself just to get a word or two out of her mouth without a total breakdown.
But once she was able to do that, her overall mood did seem to lighten, however. At least a little. Now that Illiam'iira had moved around the table to be closer to Felisha, the shadow rogue actually leaned into the drow -- not touching, but there was apparently some degree of magnetism on Felisha's side. As she began the story, Felisha's tone grew wistful and distant ... but also, there was a horrible sense of longing present, too -- a keening desire to relive memories that were long since past.

"Cyprian and I have known each other longer than most mortals have been alive -- excepting elves, of course," she said, giving Illiam'iira a little nod of deference. "Truth be told, we've known each other for ... I think i was around sixty when we met. He is a few decades younger than I am. But ... well ... you probably don't wish to hear the circumstances of how we met but -- suffice it to say it was love at first sight. And for decades after -- at least a century -- Cyprian and I were almost inseparable."

Another steadying breath. "I say 'almost' because, well it's ...just ... I hate to say this about him but he was kind of a philanderer. It seemed like he would bed any and every woman who would nod their heads at him. At a lot of them did. Most women looking for something with permanence - like myself - would have left him in a heartbeat, I think. But ... I loved him. And if philandering made him happy, I wasn't going to tell him to stop. I wanted to love him for who he was -- not for who I could make him. I always thought that, once he got it out of his system, he would come to me -- and stay only with me."

"I think sometimes I was too lenient with him, perhaps. He was a grown man -- he could decide for himself when he was ready to fully commit to me. I tried not to let his ... indescretions ... bother me. But they did. Sometimes ... they bothered me a great deal, especially when he would openly flirt with women in front of me -- and in front of our mutual friends. But I only asked that no matter where he went, he would remember the way home."

As she related this tale, her tone gradually became darker, more ominous. The wistfulness from before had faded into genuine, palpable emotional pain.

"As I said though - I loved him. And I do believe he loved me. But .... now I'm not so sure when or ... for how long. We were together far more often than we were apart. I don't want to paint him as being totally and completely insensitive to me. But ... he and I used to ... uh ... I'm sorry you have to hear this ... but he and I would feed on the locals in Zobeck. Drunks, a lot of the time. It was like getting free drinks because we could become intoxcated on ... well, never mind about that. Point being is that whenever anyone saw me around the city without Cyprian, everyone knew he was ... with someone else. It was humiliating. To put it mildly. The things we do for love, I suppose."

She heaved a heavy sigh and waved her other hand dismissively (she seemed to value Illiam'iira's touch and hadn't moved that hand at all). "My apologies -- I'm including a lot of detail that's probably unnecessary. Anyway, as I said, all that I really asked of him was to remember where home was. And he always did. Until he didn't."

Felisha began watching the door as she spoke, trying so hard to keep her expression stoic -- but it just wasn't working. She was hundreds of years old -- never before had she felt so much pain.

"He disappeared one day. And ... one day became a week ... and then a month. Then several. I really didn't know what to think. Had he gotten himself killed? Did he run off with an adventuring crew and not tell me? Or ... did he finally meet a woman worth keeping? Worth moving in with and committing to? So ... I'm not entirely sure how long he had been gone, but when he came back, I thought for sure it was another woman. He and I had fights to peel the paint off the walls. He kept claiming that he had been pulled in by strange mists to some other plane called Ravenloft or Barovia or somewhere -- and he and a group of adventurers were in a fight for their lives against some vampire lord named Strahd."

"I thought he was feeding me a lot of bullshit just to forestall my rage ... I mean ... if you had a boyfriend who you knew cheated on you left and right, would you believe a story about a strange mist and a vampire lord? I actually got furious with him because I thought he was making up some half-baked metaphor about how I was sucking the life out of him .... or something. Mists? Mysti? A vampire lord? And I'm a dhampir? And, well, you get the idea ..."


"I really thought ..." Felisha started losing control again -- after she had fought so hard to choke back her emotions from before. She could only croak, her lips tightened, her eyes filled again with unshed tears. "I thought he was philandering again. And ... I chased him away with my jealousy ... my inability to believe him. I tried. I wanted to. But he had been gone too long this time. It made me think he ... that he would never settle with ... "

Felisha managed to forestall breaking into full-on sobs and hid the choking by clearing her throat.

"But he was telling the truth. I don't know. I try to assuage the guilt by reminding myself I had every reason in the world to doubt what he said. But somehow that never seems to help. But ... he and I kept being torn apart like that far too often. Sometimes it was him. Sometimes it was me. Sometimes we'd both be stuck somewhere and unable to get back to each other. But, see, the thing is ... we always, I really mean always found our way back to each other, even when we weren't trying to. Always. There was something almost magical about it -- as if we were being watched over by gods who wanted us together for some reason."

Then Mysti puts her hand over that of Illiam'iira's ... creating a sort of sandwich with the drow's hand in the middle. However -- Felisha's grip hurt a little -- or perhaps more accurately -- she was squeezing somewhat harder as if she were being ... urgent or perhaps emphasizing the next part of the story.

"One day I was practicing the flute. Cyprian and I had a performance that night of very old and long forgotten songs of the ocean. So there I was playing in my comfy chair like I usually do -- I got hungry and put the flute down to go look for some food. And instead of finding myself in my pantry I was ... here. In Sigil. Took me a month just to figure out where I was. Another year just to understand where I was. I've been here now for ... twenty years, Illiam'iira. Two entire decades."

"I just kept reminding myself that Cyprian would be along soon. Because, as I said, we always found each other. Not even the infinite nature of the planes could stop this weird connection we had. I even bought a brand new flute -- I left my old one back in Midgard -- not wanting to fall out of practice when Cyprian showed up. Because I figured we would be performing. But for the first time in my life ... I began to think Cyprian wasn't coming this time."

"Months went by, then years, a decade, then two. I just ... my faith began to wane. But I still wanted to believe somehow he would find me. Or ... I would find him. I spent every available resource I had looking for a portal back to Midgard. But finding one portal among thousands to a specific destination ... well, I kept looking anyway. By then I was freelancing my bounty hunting services; I would get my marks and instructions from the doorman at the Golden Baurier -- and he handed me a note. From none other than Cyprian ...."

After telling this long story thus far, Felisha had drifted in and out of extreme emotion and always managed to keep it in check. Until now. This was where most of the pain was concentrated, where most of the wounds were. Perhaps even ... all the wounds. Felisha dropped one hand from the table, but the other, the one Illiam'iira had been holding -- Felisha truly squeezed in utter desperation. She tried to breathe and couldn't ... she choked. She coughed. Tears streamed from her eyes to the point where her entire face was simply wet. She couldn't get out a coherent word. She clamped her eyes shut so hard it pulled her lips into a smile. When she was finally able to talk again, her speech was slow, halting.

"I had waited ... twenty years for him ... Illiam'iira. It had been such a lonely time for me -- and yet there was Cyprian. Twenty years had gone by, but there he was! How can that not mean something, Illi? How can that just be another random coincidence?"

She fell into another fit of almost hysterical sobbing.

"Needless to say we met up -- he came over to my room. Some half century ago, Cyprian and i -- with a small adventuring group -- found some kind of crazy sex cult operating in the sewers of Zobeck. They were all murderers and thieves so we of course brought them into the authorities -- the ones who survived at any rate. But they had this ... this red water that, if you drink it before, you know, it heightens the experience by ... many orders of magnitude. It is ecstacy like no other. Cyprian and I used his last vial that night ... I thought ... the wait was finally over."

"But then a day went by. And another. And another. Where the hell was Cyprian? And ... that's when I saw him at that New Sensation thing they had going on. I went there just to see what it was all about -- and there was Cyprian dancing with who I later found out was Factol Montgomery. But while I was sitting there, I noticed another blond with all of these runes around her head start to approach Cyprian, saw him dancing with Montgomery, then turned and left with a huff. Cyprian ignored me. Like I didn't exist at all."

"Which ... which brings us to ... today." If Felisha cared about the constant stream of tears at this point, she gave no indication of it. As before her voice was halting and undulating -- almost like the shivering sound people make when they're cold. She didn't even bother to wipe the tears away -- they collected as little drops on her chin -- one even dangled from her nose.

Felisha was so upset over this next part that she could barely speak. She tried sucking in air as if she were drowning, looking almost panicked that it was becoming so difficult to breathe. She had to calm down -- she knew she did. But it was easier said than done. By a long long country mile.

"I saw Akh and Cyprian at the meeting today. I'm assuming that's why you're here -- that you must have seen me give Akh a rather intense look. I wanted to take her measure and, I'll be honest, she reminds me of a cold fish. No fire. No spirit.
Or something. I was told she was a part of the Dustmen so ... my god, my head is spinning. I hated that meeting, Illiam'iira, no offense. It was because of those two -- and the fact that I felt very much like a stranger in a strange land with everyone else looking at me as if somehow I was the one in the wrong!"

Her words were barely a whisper, kept so low that Illiam'iira might have had to strain to hear her. But it was difficult to tell whether Felisha was still talking directly to Illiam'iira ... or was she just ... talking. After all, she has lived some 20 years with no one there for her, with no one to reach out to -- so as Felisha talks, it sounds to Illiam'iira that Felisha thought she was going to be reunited with Cyprian -- but all Cyprian did was bed her and then toss her into the garbage like a once-comfortable but now thread-bare cloak. Akh was the new thing now. The bright and shiny object that he was attracted to. Relaying this horrid set of details only had Felisha in another coughing fit.

"I could ... deal with it if ... Akh was just another woman ... jump in bed with her and then come back to me. But now ... now I'm the one he jumps in bed with for a short dalliance -- and Akh is the one he runs back to. I put up with decades -- Illiam'iira. Decades of him running out on me -- spending so many lonely nights in a cold bed because he was out with someone else. I put up with the humiliation, the stares, the jokes, the feelings of inadequacy --- for decades --- because I thought he would come back to me. Because he always did. And in less days than there are fingers on my hand, Akh waltzes in and steals him."

Then she shakes her head and sighs. "I don't know how much Akh is at fault. The way Akh looked at me in that meeting, I don't even know if Cyprian told her about us. That he only spent the majority of his life with me ... but that's not even worth a mention. Is it. He probably told Akh he didn't have any other women -- or some other shit just to win her good graces."

The words she used ... they sounded angry. Like they would have been yelled from across the room. There would be flying mugs and surprise punches and an all out barroom brawl. But there were none of those things. Felisha was still in whisper -- or the occasional murmur -- but she was rapidly losing her strength. Not just for the here and now. But forever.

"Cyprian threw over a century of romance into the sewer for someone he's known for ... a week. What does that make me? A nothing. He used me for a very long time -- he wasted my life. He bedded me ... in my own home ... knowing he was with Akh ... and didn't even give me the choice to say no. Because had I known he going to settle and commit to Akh ... I would never have let him touch me. Ever."

"And why ... what was the point of having our little talk after your meeting ... Illiam'iira? It wasn't as if I could lay out my own arguments as to why he should be with me. No. It was so he could divest himself of his own guilt -- as if he wanted me to tell him that ... why yes, Cyprian, everything is just peachy -- and I have no problems with you dumping me for someone you've known for a few days. And I certainly don't mind the fact that you strung me along for one and a half centuries only to run to Akh ... oh and I'm perfectly fine with the fact that you took advantage of me in my own bed ... I'll even come to your goddamn wedding!"

There was so much pent up anger -- and so much pent up sadness that it probably would have driven a normal person absolutely insane, given the time frames here. But whatever the case, Felisha practically collapsed after saying all of that -- especially the part about Cyprian throwing away almost two centuries of history and ignoring how she and he always found each other -- and settling down with Akh, someone he's known for mere days. What DID that say about Felisha herself? That she was never good enough to settle down with, to commit to. But Akh was ... somehow he figured that out in mere hours!?

Felisha falls silent then, utterly spent, utterly exhausted, utterly defeated. All she can do was stare blankly at the wall, the hand Illiam'iira was still holding had gone completely limp -- and cold. Though the coldness might have been from being half-undead, Illiam'iira couldn't be sure.

Mysti wrote: ↑

Sat Aug 26, 2023 5:45 am

Felisha falls silent then, utterly spent, utterly exhausted, utterly defeated. All she can do was stare blankly at the wall, the hand Illiam'iira was still holding had gone completely limp -- and cold. Though the coldness might have been from being half-undead, Illiam'iira couldn't be sure.

There's a lot of nodding, and 'it's alright's, and listening, lots of listening. As the woman's eyes water she squeezes Felisha's hand again. Oh this is very very bad. When she starts to choke Illiam frets over her, though tries her best not to hover... she does scoot closer, trying to give the dhampir some of her warmth.

"You don't have to apologize. I told you you could talk about it if you wanted to. And you didn't do anything bad. Okay? What happened isn't any reflection on you. You wanted love. It just, well... sometimes love sucks. We want things and it comes back to bite us in the ass." She wishes she could put it better -- more eloquently, more heartfelt -- but Illia is who she is. She's earnest, and earnestly trying to help.

"You wouldn't feel so bad if you didn't love him so much. You have every right to be mad as hell." A pause, and then, meekly, "Uh, would you like a hug? Is -- like -- is there anything I can get you? Do you wanna like, go break stuff or something? Literally, anything you'd like." The drow mimes grabbing the mug on the table and smashing it... only mimes. They gotta go somewhere else for smashin' junk. "Sitting here's good too. I can even go if you need some space. It's your wild ride, so, you call the shots."