Snippet #1508800

Faera's insides felt... funny. Not bad, necessarily, just strange. Her head was spinning a bit, too, and amongst the laughter of her fellow Legionnaires and the music and the atmosphere it was all proving to be quite pleasant when combined just so. She wondered if the funny-tasting beverages Beelzes kept shoving at her had anything to do with it. Talae didn't usually allow her to drink anything when they stopped at taverns, but she'd never actually explained why, and she wasn't really here at the moment, so at Beelzes's insistence, she'd tried something called 'ale' and something else called 'gin' and right now she was feeling pretty good about those decisions.

A different song started up, and this was not really one Fae had heard before, but quite a few people seemed to be excited about it, so maybe it was a particularly good one or something. Though... the first verse in, and Fae was already coloring visibly about the ears. That... didn't mean what she thought it meant, did it? Oh dear. She decided to stop listening to the words and try listening to the people around instead, but it would seem that those people had other ideas, and it wasn't long before she felt an insistent tugging on her wrist.

"Come on, we need to dance! Spellcasters have to represent, you know?" It was apparently Beelzes, but Fae shook her head, even if it did send her head spinning. "N-no... I'm pretty suure I can' dansh," she replied, not really sure why her tongue felt so heavy in her mouth.

"Sure ya can, little Shanir! You've just gotta feel it!" Displaying considerable strength, Beelzes hauled the diminutive dark elf out of her stool and onto the counter with only minimal resistance from a completely-confused Faera, who simply stood there for a few seconds processing what had been said.

"I'm good at feeling," she announced hazily. "And hearing. Oh, and schmelling too! But not seeing," she admitted, somewhat disheartened.

"Well, then get to feeling!" Beelzes crowed, and by then the music was loud enough in Fae's ears and her head was spinning fast enough that that seemed like the best possible plan. It was plenty strange at first, but eventually she got an idea for what was going on, and her normal reservations and shyness were not quite so loud in her head for some reason, so dancing made perfect sense indeed.

---

Neira had avoided everyone and everything in the hours between the battle's end and dusk, and she would have been content to continue stewing in her own bitterness and desire for vengeance if the first step to getting what she wanted hadn't holed himself up in a bar. Shooting venomous glares at anyone who so much as looked at her through their drunken haze, she slid into the seat across from Thanaros, giving the half-orc a nod.

"Neira," he replied politely, and she took a second to smack away someone'e wandering hand (she had no idea who) before she spoke.

"Not here." She stood up again, and he did as well, fairly amenable to the suggestion. It was not the kind of discussion to hold in the middle of a spectacle after all. The door closed behind them, and cut off most of the noise from inside, but it wasn't quite enough for the nightmarian, who took the both of them down another road that was relatively deserted before getting to the crux of the matter.

"I need to better my psionics," she stated flatly, and Thanaros did not reply, merely waiting for further explanation. "I was never actually trained to use the power within, and I've only ever needed it for one thing: keeping myself myself." Her stride was too swift for a casual stroll, her words bitten off with much vitriol, but Thanaros was patient.

"I do not quite understand," the half-orc admitted. He didn't know much of nightmarians in general or this one in particular, so at this point he could only relate to about half of what she was saying.

"You're going to make me spell it out, aren't you?" she snapped. Nothing. He would not rise to the bait and bite back, but she had known that. Aggravating as it was, she knew it was also the reason he was the one to speak with about this. "Fine. Where I come from, the power within isn't heard-of. All there is is the hive, and obedience. It is... difficult to break away from it, and I was under more direct influence than most." Kind of happens when you hang around the Queen all the time.

"I hated every second of it, and the short version of the story is that eventually something... snapped, and I was free of it. I ran before it could hold me again, and I'm now, for lack of a better term, an exile. But I didn't know anything of psionics, not even the word. I would still know nothing, had not some old man pulled me aside and told me that I think far too loudly. I learned some basic things from him, but not enough, and today, in the battle, I was nearly killed because of it. I need to know more, or I'm going to get someone killed."

Thanaros considered that for a few moments, choosing his next words carefully. "When you are in battle, what is your state of mind?" He figured he knew the response already, but it would be better if she explained it.

Neira snorted. "I think everybody knows the answer to that, Thanaros. I'm a sadistic bitch. I enjoy crawling into the little spaces in people's heads and messing around in there. I like the wet sound a skull makes when it shatters. I'm fond of-" Thanaros held up a hand for her to stop, and the nightmarian laughed darkly.

"That's... part of your problem," the green-skinned man asserted delicately. "It's certainly a valid... erm, coping mechanism, but it's not the state you really need to be in to use your power correctly."

Neira's eyes narrowed. "I'm listening."