Lilly had wanted to rest in the tavern in Saradush—the Tankard Tree, it was called. But the fireball bombardments made it impossible for the delicate matter of memorizing spells. Her own reverie was impossible, never mind the deeper, lumbering slumber that other races called sleep.
So she had been forced to take the party back to her.....'pocket plane'. This was supposed to be a manifestation of her own subconscious will? She doubted that very much. The statues were all ghastly heads or of 'Daddy Dearest'. Nothing to suit her more.....refined tastes.
She still hadn't taken her boots off. Imoen had long since stopped teasing her for it; rescuing her from Spellhold had put paid to that. In truth, she would like to take them off, now. Her feet were sore. But for the moment at least, she would keep them on. It was the principle of the thing.
Still, at least some things in this miserable pit of a plane did her bidding. After arranging for Sarevok's third and final death, she had wished his body to disintegrate....and it had. Apparently he hadn't been lying when he said her words had power here. How foolish of him to tell her that.
And that imp Cespenar. Incredibly annoying, especially his voice. But he created the items for her well enough. Too bad she couldn't use all of them, or sell many of them for more gold than it had cost to make them, but again it was the principle of the thing. Her own familiar, Duke, was far preferable. For a male.
Her eyes drifted over the others. Imoen, much more serious and focused now. Good thing, too. It was high time her....sister...realized how serious things were. What was at stake. But that was a line of thought she didn't really want to pursue right now.
Mazzy was a faithful captain, but also still a little blind about the reality of the world. Nothing she could do about that, though. The Halfling actually wanted to be a Paladin. The very idea filled Lilly with nausea. All the same, it made her tractable, predictable, useful.
Jaheira, there from the beginning....still the clucking mother hen. There were times, Lilly reflected, that it was too bad Faldorn had left the company, and later turned against her. But in the end, loyalty was important. Jaheira had been loyal...Faldorn had not.
Nalia she had mixed feelings about. Technically she was still nobility. But there was no currying favor with her any more. Now she was a follower, not a patron. In truth, Lilly reflected, most of her attempts to win favor with nobility had not turned out well....with the partial and problematical exception of the Grand Dukes of Baldur's Gate. Oh yes, and that one noble Aldeth, but he was a hapless buffoon, as most men were.
Viconia, the dark priestess. Lilly at once both respected her and was wary of her. When they had been in Ust'Natha, the look of longing on her face had been evident....until they found her kindred member of House De'Vir imprisoned, awaiting execution. And even afterwards, it was clear that Viconia still missed the life. Even if she knew she could never return to it. Imoen and Nalia might fancy themselves archmagi, but only as a matter of pride. It was Viconia who could pose a real threat, if she chose to become one. It was odd; Viconia held men in disdain as much as Lilly did, but she nevertheless saw them as a source of physical pleasure. That disgusted Lilly, but more than that she simply did not understand it. Her Drow upbringing, she supposed.
She waste no more thought on it, at least for the moment. Instead she tuned out the chatter of the others and slipped into reverie.
When she came back to herself, Viconia was sitting nearby, repacking her gear.
"Did I rest too long?" Lilly asked, in a snappish tone that was harsher than she intended.
If Viconia was bothered, she didn't show it. "No, abbil. The others are still asleep. I merely woke first."
Lilly eyed her warily for a moment, then suppressed her suspicions and changed the subject. "Mellisan annoys me."
Now Viconia chuckled. "You're not alone in that sentiment."
"Yes...." Lilly rolled her eyes. Mellisan had barely disappeared after their meeting before Imoen had coined the childish rhyme 'Melly is smelly.' But as much as she might detest the way Imoen expressed it, she ultimately agreed with it.
"She reminds me of some of the older Drow matrons," Viconia went on. "Those that had ruled their houses for centuries. Polite on the surface, but underneath.....and those eyes. Mellisan has those sort of eyes."
Lilly nodded. She had seen both Matron Ardulace and her daughter Phaere in Ust'Natha, and had seen the sort of narrow, cold, calculating gaze Viconia was referring to. Then she actually smiled. Almost chuckled.
Viconia raised a brow. "What is so amusing, abbil?"
"I was just thinking, I must have those eyes myself."
Viconia leaned back a little and appraised her. "Getting there," she decided.
Now Lilly did chuckle. "I shall choose to take that as a compliment."
Viconia nodded. "You need such, I think."
"Yes. But enough musing. Let's wake the others."
Lilly hated this place. Lilly hated Bhaal, and his precious plane. But as she led the others back to Saradush, she was determined to make it her own.