Hope opened her eyes, pulling apart her sand-crusted eyelashes, and raised her hand to shield her face from the midday sun. She groaned and rolled to her side, sending a flurry of sand out as she coughed hoarsely.
She squinted and lifted her head, taking in the beach, ravaged with debris from the fallout. Moving to her hands and knees, she stood on shaky legs, taking it all in. Licking her dry lips, she expelled a sigh before muttering, "Well, Toto. I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."
Remains of the ship were scattered every which way — a disaster of smoking carnage. She didn't even want to think about where Chloe might be in the wreckage. Brows furrowed, Hope glanced down at herself and her unscathed body.
She knew she was a fast healer; hell, she probably even died.
But this? At the rate she'd been traveling along with the fire and debris that would have likely hit her while unconscious, it should have taken her much longer to feel relatively normal. How long had she been out?
Turning, she froze as her sights settled on a familiar figure.
It was Shadowheart.
Hope approached her, every step one of hesitation as she addressed her state. How was she not a mutilated mess? Perhaps everyone here was made of stronger stuff. Listening as she neared, she heard the distinct thump of a beating heart and sighed with relief. It was then that her gaze landed on something…peculiar. Some sea urchin? She had no idea what the object lying near her was, but it was rather curious.
The urge to pick it up overwhelmed her.
Hope clenched her jaw and scowled at the device. She didn't know what it was, but anything that could tempt her was likely to take advantage of her. Instead, she lightly kicked the heel of Shadowheart's boot.
"I know you're alive, but so are coma patients."
Shadowheart lurched into a sitting position, and Hope took an immediate step back, brows raised as she watched her intently. She had no qualms with getting her hands dirty should she need to — if she turns into a threat. Though she'd certainly prefer it not to lead to that. Maybe she knew where they were, or better yet… how Hope could get home.
"You alright?" Hope asked after a moment of silence.
Shadowheart met her eye line and swallowed before nodding, "I'm fine…"
Watching her stand and tucking the item away into safekeeping before she cleared her throat, "I suppose I should be thanking you for saving me," she met her eyes then, and Hope reflexively stiffened, "You didn't have to, but you did. I'll not forget that." Then, she asked what Hope hadn't wanted to think about. "I take it you didn't find your friend?"
Hope refrained from cringing as she breathed through her nose and out through her mouth, "I couldn't save her."
"I'm sorry…"
Clenching her jaw, she nodded and looked around (anywhere but her eyes). "Where are we?"
"Hells if I know," Shadowheart glanced around before settling her gaze on her again, "I think it would be in our best interest to stick together."
Another wave of relief washed over her. "I was thinking the same." Hope responded and furrowed her brow. "Where's…"
"Lae'zel," Shadowheart rolled her eyes, "found that out just before our almost certain demise. Be careful of the company you keep."
Hope couldn't help but smirk, "You know, I have a feeling she'd say the same thing about you."
"Our people don't exactly get along."
"Noted." Hope raked her fingers through her hair and asked. "So, where do we go from here?"
"Baldur's Gate. At least, that's where I'm going."
A place she'd never heard of in any of her geography lessons — not even the magical ones.
"The things in our heads. That really happened, didn't it?"
Shadowheart pursed her lips into a tight line. "Unfortunately."
Just knowing something truly was housing itself in her head was enough to make her nauseous. Swallowing it back, she asked, "Do you suppose someone in Baldur's Gate can…take them out?"
"It's possible, but we won't know if we keep standing here."
With that, they began to walk along the ravaged beach, careful to avoid the singed flesh of deceased beings and the remnants of fires that still sizzled where the crash scarred the earth. Seemingly only casualties, they moved swiftly, but Hope continued to scan the debris with the subtle yearning that she might see a blanket of blonde hair. Seeing Chloe dead was better than not seeing her at all. A strange thought, she supposed.
They saw nothing and no one aside from a few straggling brains that they smashed before they could draw too near. Hope frowned as she lifted her boot and scraped the brain matter against the exposed dirt as they finally made their way out of the wreckage. It wasn't like she wasn't used to getting her hands dirty, but here…there were too many variables to take into account.
The sun above, already seeming to wane in the day, brought a bit of sanctuary as they emerged from the ship's destruction and continued up a slope. Up ahead, a man paced. Hope couldn't quite make out what he was saying under his breath as he continued to look out over a small pasture beyond the road—exchanging uneasy glances, before stepping forward.
"Come here!" The man called out in a hushed whisper. "I've found one of them. One of those…brain things."
As Hope tentatively approached, he asked, "You can kill it, can't you?"
Grazing him over with a steady gaze, she noted his rather fine attire. What she'd imagine an aristocrat back in time would have worn. Perhaps he was just that here. She glanced where he pointed, but the moment she was already on the ground—pinned to the dirt with a dagger to her throat.
With his face far too close to hers, she grabbed his wrist and instinctively tried to pry him away. To her surprise, his movement didn't come easily, and she quickly gave in. From the corner of her eye, she watched Shadowheart tense and carefully withdraw her staff.
"Oh, don't fret, my dear," he smiled in a way that his eyes lit with malice, "I only want a bit of information. I saw you there, scuttling on the ship." The dagger pressed with firm pressure against her throat, the instinct to bare her fangs and rip out a chunk of his throat ever-present. "You're in league with them," he continued, voice rising in pitch, "aren't you!?"
Hope clenched her jaw, gazing into the red of his eyes without fear as she quietly uttered, "Get off me."
He laughed, and Hope tightened her grip on his wrist, but before she could snap the bone, her vision skewed as another new reality invaded her senses from the perspective of prowling eyes through darkened streets swept with fear. He fell away from her then, and Hope didn't hesitate to move to her feet.
"What in the nine hells was that…" He held his head, seeming to be shaking off a vision of his own.
Putting another step of distance between them, Hope watched him. His dagger, the way he moved. He'd been so quick — he could be so again. Staring at him, she replied, "Call me crazy, but I'm going to assume it was the worm."
"The worm, yes…" He trailed off, taking on a far-off expression. "Yes, that does explain things." Turning his gaze on her again, his confusion morphed into another smirk. "And to think. I nearly decorated the ground with your innards."
Hope wanted to roll her eyes. Severely.
She chose to stay quiet.
"Apologies," he continued, looking her up and down as a light chuckle rippled up his throat, "My name's Astarion," he curled his lip in announcement, "I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me. So then…what do you know about these worms, hm?"
Hope glanced at Shadowheart, who kept a wickedly alert watch on Astarion. She turned back and sighed, "From what I've gathered, we're an incubator. They'll turn us into Mind Flayers."
Blinking in quiet disbelief, Astarion let out a harsh, barking laugh before scowling at the ground. "Of course," he snarled at no one in particular, "of course it will turn me into a monster. What did I expect?"
As if suddenly aware of their presence, he turned a heated, yet hopeful gaze on them. "It hasn't happened yet; we may still have time. If we can find an expert, that is."
"We were headed to Baldur's Gate for that reason," Hope finally offered in her silence. "I suppose you could tag along. If we're all searching for the same thing, it might be easier with numbers."
"Hm," he studied her with scrutiny for a moment, "well, I had intended to go it alone, but I suppose you could be…useful."
The way his eyes grazed over her frame, as if mentally taking away her layers, made Hope clench her jaw. Astarion must have noticed her apprehension, as he quickly put his hands up and smirked devilishly, "I do promise to keep my daggers to myself."
Hope gnawed her lower lip before glancing at Shadowheart, "Are you alright with that?"
Seemingly surprised by the question, she nodded, "The more swords on the road, the better. It's a long way to Baldur's Gate with even more unsettling individuals along the way."
Astarion grinned and gave his hands a clap, "Lead on, then!"
"We've been walking for ages," Astarion groaned, dragging the back with a disgruntled sigh. "I don't know how people do this, let alone for the fun of adventure."
Hope rolled her eyes, "I almost feel bad."
"You're not going to let the dagger thing go, are you?"
"Nope."
Heaving another sigh, they walked another forty paces before Hope stopped and Astarion stumbled into her. In a voice dripping with annoyance, he cried out, "Do you mind!"
But Hope had stopped paying attention to him as she stared at the violet, glowing sigil on the boulder just up ahead. "What is that?"
"Haven't a clue." Shadowheart frowned as they carefully approached.
"Maybe it's part of one of those Mind Flayers tricks," Astarion offered, "better safe than sorry and all that…we should probably just keep going."
It was the mindful thing to do, indeed, and yet… she couldn't walk away. Something called to her beyond the rock, if that were even possible, and before she could talk herself out of it, she tentatively moved forward and placed her palm against the sigil's surface.
"It's warm…"
"Well, that's just great," Astarion hissed softly, "let's go."
A sudden whirl of swirling, glittering magic took on the appearance of a hurricane, and Hope staggered backward. Fists clenched and eyes wide as an arm lurched forward, followed by an echoed voice, "A hand? Anyone?"
Swallowing, Hope ventured forth just a step and peered through the center black hole of the raging magic that encompassed it. Perhaps it was against her better judgment, but her instincts told her to take the hand. To free the prisoner beyond.
"Just know," Hope said as she grabbed the hand firmly, "if you decide to attack, we won't go down without a fight."
"Speak for yourself…" Astarion took a sidestep backwards, looking as though he might flee.
"Yes, yes, of course," came the voice, "not that my words from here make much difference, but I really would appreciate it."
Shadowheart, too, stepped backward in apprehension. She would be clearly doing this alone, she thought as she yanked. Foot against the rock beside the vortex, she pulled until the arm came loose with a body, falling onto her on the ground.
"I do apologize, I'm usually better at this," the man, in his purple robe attire, said as he stood and offered a helping hand to Hope. Which she took and eyed him curiously. "I am Gale of Waterdeep. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and you are?"
Quiet for a long moment, she finally replied, "Hope."
She could have sworn she heard Astarion slyly snort behind him, but she didn't turn to stare at his smug expression.
"How did you manage to get stuck inside a rock?" Hope asked, instead of turning her irritation on the pale elf behind her.
"Oh, you know, I imagine you were on the Nautiloid as well? Well, as the thing fell to pieces, plummeting to ultimate demise below, when I reached out to the glimmer of magic I felt near, and found myself on the other side. As it were," he continued without reprieve, "how did you manage to survive the fall?"
Shaking her head, she didn't look behind her as she answered, "I honestly don't know."
"Ah, yes. Fair enough. I have the unfortunate suspicion your survival is still very much in jeopardy. I imagine you, too, were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insurgent of the ocular region."
Hope refrained from cringing, "The worm."
"Yes, precisely, and if you have not yet been made aware, after a period of excruciating gestation, it will turn us all into Mind Flayers. A process known as ceramophosis. I assure you, it is to be avoided," he held a finger up, "I don't suppose anyone here is a doctor or adroit with a knitting needle?"
Astarion chimed in then, "You seem to know an awful lot about our condition…"
"I know enough to realize it's beyond most clerics' skills, but I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few."
Slowly shaking her head, Hope pursed her lips. "Can't say I am." If she took a dagger to her eye, she could surely get the little sucker out, but how would she explain the way her eye regenerated as if affected by nothing? Unless this place had plenty of people who healed from such injuries, though she doubted, as no one seemed to offer the idea anyway.
"Hm, I knew the chances were slim, but in any regard, we can find a healer together, and soon," he smiled eyes alight with hope, and said, "but before you assume you're about to embark on a journey with an ill-mannered man, thank you for pulling me out of that stone. It was an act of foresighted kindness, I assure you. And I hope to return the favor."
Hope was sure there would be plenty of opportunities, but now all she wanted was to go home. Then again… go home to what exactly? An empty trailer on the outskirts of a town she rarely visited? Why was she so eager to leave when, truth be told, this was the most excitement she'd had in decades?
That was a terrible thing to think in light of everything, but a stagnant pond suddenly introduced to a lake filled with fascinating creatures, and people might not be the curse she'd initially thought.
"We'll need to make camp soon," Shadowheart said as she glanced up at the darkening sky.
"Ah, yes. I'm starving…" Astarion said, and then quickly said, "Oh, and my feet hurt. Of course."
Hope didn't look at him as she nodded, "We'll want it set before it's too dark."
"I might know of an area," Gale offered. "Follow me."