I turn away from the Morgana, having gotten the answer we were hoping for, and finding myself foolish for having hoped it. They are not the ones responsible for the undead horde gathering in the undercity… but they also have no idea who is responsible for it, and Hatabis has stopped answering their prayers. Whether or nor this means they have lost the ability to control the undead is uncertain at this stage, but if that is indeed the case, we have no way of stopping the zombies other than straight forward violence.
Even more disturbing than that is contemplating who is raising the dead, if not clan Morgana. This person or organization may be responsible for the other recent evils facing Amal, and may even be responsible for blocking Hatabis’ power from reaching the Morgana; a frightfully worrisome prospect, to say the least.
It almost makes one rethink their stance on a certain fledgling-tale character’s existence.
I chuckle to myself and mutter; “ Almost ” , before my eyes drift to the area I have been avoiding since I came back to the party.
There she is, smiling and laughing with a few others, tossing the vile moistened tendrils her long green hair. Though it makes me sick to my stomach even glancing at such repulsiveness, I can tell by how those around her are treating her, by their body language, that they are all held captive by what they consider great beauty. A fellow malaphant touches her arm flirtatiously, she glances coyly. Another laugh is shared by group.
This Selena Hoften, claiming to have once been involved with Shaeni, claims also to have seen me in those days. If this is true, she could only have approached me out of mockery. Out of some cruel drive to humiliate me.
If it is not true, which is what I am inclined to believe, then how did she know my sire’s name? And how did she know that at the mention of him I would come undone?
I disappoint myself, that I have lived this many centuries of unlife, and still the slightest whisper of his name affects me so.
Memories flood into my mind which I have tried so diligently and dutifully to forget, or at least to block out. Everything I felt during my time with Shaeni comes in to sharp focus, making me feel as if it would be no surprise to turn around and see him standing in the doorway, running a hand through his mane with his hard grin on his face.
I disappoint myself again by giving in to the dread and glancing quickly around the room.
I shake my head to clear it as I approach Donizetti and Shadow; these personal issues will have to wait until we have dealt with the zombies, and the children kidnappers, and the person claiming to be Mavarek, and after we find out who forced my companions and I to our slumbers. Though I may have Eyes discretely follow Miss.Hoften regardless.
I pause in my approach; ‘my companions’ and I? When did I start to consider these malaphants ‘my companions’? Rastan, yes, I have always gotten on well with him.. And Shadow has her moral code and passion for justice, which I have always respected… And since reading Donizetti’s diary and coming to understand him better…
I continue my approach. I cannot let myself get too familiar with these malaphant, and I swear to myself and to Thule that I will not.
But my companions and I will make Amal safe for the innocent.