“Closer. Child. Drift closer. We are waiting. You have overcome. So much. You have learned. So much. We are proud. To shed blood. To annihilate. To fell that. Beast of change. Come closer. We have more. To teach. To show…”

“So we’ll be looking for flowers?”

“Small white flowers that grow low to the ground; almost like clover. They should be in bloom, but that might make them less visible with all the gray and white stone. It would have been nice to start in the spring so we could look for greenery, but it took too long to get all my things together and find the both of you.”

“Hold on, he’s awake.”

Flip’s eyes had indeed drifted lazily open. The wizard was unsure of how long he had been unconscious. There wasn’t really a way of telling inside the flat. What he did know was that his body was sore, particularly his head. He had never fallen unconscious due to exhaustion before, though he had also never exhausted himself in that way before. Depriving himself of sleep and straining his stores of magic was more or less common place for Flip, but hard travel and exposure to the elements was not normal by any stretch.

“I’m awake.” Flip grumbled out his response, but did not bother to try and move yet.

Dovhran stood up from his relaxed place amongst the crates and stood over Flip, his form still the silvery nearly metallic form of a changeling. “We can see that, Faengil. We were worried.”

“You’re our best bet at surviving if Theihdow catches back up to us.” Selian added, revealing the truth to their worry.

“Speak the words. Smite him again. All you need. Is to ask.”

The wizard’s eyes closed again, overwhelmed by the cacophony of words he was being barraged with. He could see the elf’s mouth moving, but a second louder voice, a more familiar one, was echoing through his mind like a memory that drew him into a world of sleep.

“I’m not awake yet. Am I…” Flip muttered.

“What?” Dovhran cocked his human looking head to the side as he looked down at the confused wizard. But again, the word was overshadowed by another voice.

“Asleep and awake. All at once. Child. Your dreams. Are awake. We are awake.”

“Do you hear that?”

Selian knelt down next to Flip now, a concerned look on her face. “Hear what?” For a moment, the elf looked to the trapdoor that led outside, but all that could be heard from that direction was the sound of rain pelting against the wood.

“It’s… stopped. It’s nothing.” Flip raised a hand to his forehead to press down and alleviate the pain, but as he moved, the soreness in his body faded. “I’m… fine.”

“You sound surprised instead of relieved… or fine.” Dovhran frowned. “Which makes me think you aren’t fine.”

“Look now. Look at them.”

“You don’t look well either, changeling. Getting cold?” Flip glared directly up at Dovhran.

There was a moment of confusion on the changeling's face before his downward look became one more of a self evaluation. It was followed by a moment of discomfort as he covered his androgynous body with his silvery hands.

“You’ve met other changelings before… y-you never let that on.” Dovhran scrambled over to the stove and retrieved his most dry clothing and pulled it over his body.

Among the three of them, Selian seemed the most confused by this sudden exchange. She wasn’t entirely sure where to look, given Dovhran’s sudden discomfort and Flip’s recovery from the ground.

"Yes. Control. Come closer. Our ways. Closer to us."

“I helped prepare a changeling for burial… once.” Flip admitted uncomfortably. “I would rather not think about it. But I know…”

“Faengil, what’s going on?”

“Dovhran was mocking us… to a degree. Not many people see a changeling’s true form, so they don’t tend to notice the unique parts of their appearance. How their color tends to change when the temperature changes or they get excited. How their stomachs tend to sink in when they aren’t hiding something in their body.”

“Okay, but, you didn’t mention that earlier? Why are you pointing it out now?” Selian looked troubled. Relieved that there were no imminent concerns with anyone’s well being, but troubled by the seemingly out of place revelations and alerts.

“I was an inch from sleeping face down on the floor when we started to relax. I didn’t notice until now.”

“My body is none of your business.” Dovhran hissed. The changeling was still actively trying to cover himself completely.

“Then keep your clothes on.” Flip grumbled, finally clambering all the way to his feet.

A cruel flash of inspiration crossed Dovhran’s face for a moment, but it vanished quickly as the changeling set about altering their appearance. “I know how to keep your eyes off me.”

Without warning, and without being fully clothed, Dovhran’s form slimmed and stretched. There was an uncomfortable looking shift as what had appeared solid and reinforced with bone bent like straw and twisted in place like bread dough. In seconds, Dovhran was not Dovhran. Instead he was a grossly exaggerated version of Cheska. And his lack of proper coverings made Flip immediately and deeply uncomfortable.

“What… are…. What?!” Selian, lost in the exchange, turned her confused frustration from Flip to Dovhran. And then she too blushed a deeply red hue and turned away with a “wha… Ah… oh…”

“I thought perhaps to share what my interpretation of what Dhalia would look like, but this felt much more likely to illicit the reaction I want. Not to mention that you haven’t earned that honor to see who I might have been.” Dohvran’s smug expression was seen by no one. “And I am fascinated to see your reaction, Farwysher. Though I suppose it’s my own fault, I never asked if you had a preference for me. Then again, you never asked about me at all apart from how well I'd pay you.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Silence followed Dovhran’s transformation for a long time. Neither Selian nor Flip dared to address the cruel and moody mercenary that now seemed to take up the full space of the flat apart from the meager corner they hid in. The time was spent silently waiting for clothing to dry out around the stove. And even when Dovhran, still in the form of Cheska, retrieved his dried clothing and dressed, the silence continued. Occasionally Flip would look out of the corner of his eye and check whether or not the mercenary had abandoned the form of his childhood friend, but he had only adjusted the form to fit comfortably into his own clothes.

It wasn’t until Selian retrieved the last of her clothes and retreated to a lone corner of the space that anyone dared to speak.

“I think we can all acknowledge that the both of you went too far. And while it does not matter who did so first, the two of you will have to rely on each other to not die as soon as the rain stops and we have to crawl back out of that hatch.” The elf’s voice was even, nearly angry, but even. And as she dressed herself beneath her cloak, the two men came back to their senses.

Dovhran returned to his normal form. Flip began to boil water for tea. The atmosphere relaxed. Everyone eventually came to sit around the table on their usual crates and chairs. It still took some time for anyone to talk.

“She is single…” Flip muttered, giving Selian a side-eyed look. “But the real one is more… she’s stronger.”

“I figured she was under some oath to remain celibate.” Dovhran, finally calm after drying off, couldn’t help but snicker at the insinuation from the wizard. “That or she was a widow.”

“Her grandmother terrified the whole town away from her… and me. Not that she needed to work too hard at the latter.”

“I’m still as lost as I’ve been for the last hour, but now I think you’re making fun of me.” Selian grumbled. “But at least you aren’t being cruel any more.”

“Actually, Selian, I think Flip’s friend would take a liking to you… and Builend isn’t too far off the path from here to home for you.”

The elf blushed as she came to a better understanding of what was being discussed.

“Fine. You both have to share your taste in partner then.” Selian grumbled. “If you’re not making fun of me, you need to share too.”

“Rich.” Dovhran responded quickly and easily. “Or with expensive taste.”

“Not surprising.”

“None… or rather… most.” Flip shrugged. It was the most casual conversation he had had in some time. In his youth, he had worried that the parts of his personality that were strange and different would make him even more of an outsider and feigned interest in several individuals, but no one had ever quite cared. And similarly he had worried about what Selian had thought of him at first too. But seemed uninterested in the implications of his confession.

“Everything you do is unusual, Faengil. So I’m almost not surprised by that either.” Selian paused after her response before adding on, “not that not having a preference is bad. It just isn’t common.”

Dovhran leaned back in his seat and rested his hands behind his head. “I would wager we’re all three rather strange. I think the stranger people tend to flock together and make strange flocks and herds.”

“There’s a clan in Durgoth called the Hendrighvost Suun that you may want to make a pilgrimage to, Selian. Though you’d want to learn some orcish Ghvost first… Cheska used to speak of finding a partner there.” Flip rambled uncomfortably about the topic, and Dovhran seemed fairly uninterested; but Selian couldn’t help but have a vested, if not slightly embarrassed, interest in the topic.

“There’s a brothel in Isol, not that I could see either of you fitting in there, where the men and women are lathered in gold and jewels… And there are a handful of strong and gentle lovers there… that perhaps you might make some concessions for.” Dovhran began his own story of lovers, though he grew more guarded as he was met with a lack of interest. And he eventually petered out with few details.

“There is a library in Colheart... that is funded by a few of the trade barons that all but own the ports on the south coast. The contents of the library are both arcane and historical…” Selian began her own tale, aimed primarily at Flip at first before she turned to Dovhran. “And all the librarians are paid to dress as dancers for the amusement of patrons. Not that they complain. Most of them are former lovers to wealthy traders that need a place to seek shelter while their income sources evade political trouble. Most enjoy the intellectual freedom as well.”

“Colheart? I thought I found you…”

“At Feldrigg post. You did. I’m not welcome in Colheart… for obvious reasons. But I hear many stories.”

“Why is it that I know your name?” Flip regretted his sudden question, but his curiosity couldn’t be helped.

“I don't mind telling you... but only if you share why your family is a hazard for you as well.” Selian retorted.

There was a moment of silence as Flip contemplated the value of his own personal information before he responded. “At the rate Dovhran frustrates us, he’s bound to tell our secrets without our say before we reach our destination. Regardless of our attempts to stop him.”

“I take offense to that accusation.”

“My family was… we held a prominent place in Builend at one time. I don’t know entirely what they did, because when I was five they tore a hole into the obscure in their basement. It was mostly the doing of my uncle, or so I’ve been told. A demon emerged and destroyed a third of the town with fellfire, though it was primarily the wealthier families properties. Still, all reduced to an ashen waste. My family was slaughtered, save my uncle and myself. Several other families were nearly wiped clean from this world as well. The Tim family, the Morgan family, a large portion of the Fielding family… And when my uncle attempted to compensate the town with a portion of our family coffers… they…”

“He was executed in a riot.” Dovhran interceded, his explanation was cold but kinder than Flip expected. The wizard had been unsure of how to voice that aspect of his past, and was thankful to have it said for him.

“He was the sole arcane practitioner in the town, and his research was left to me in his will… though he wrote it while in a cage. And his work benefited the town to a large degree, so I was allowed to learn from his notes and practices after I came of age. But I was kept alive by a hearth priestess til that could happen.”

“That is… perhaps far more than I asked for.”

“It is all that Dovhran could have possibly learned to use against me.” Flip looked down at his hands. Somewhat ashamed of his lineage, but also nervous that it would color him in the eyes of his companions.

“It does explain why you are so capable with demons. I take it your research was related to the slaying of demons?”

“The warding of them. But it does also have applications in the hunting of fell creatures.”

“Well…” Selian paused. “I suppose you’re right about Dovhran, and you’ve earned the knowledge… I suppose... But the name Farwysher is infamous among sailing folk. My father… was the first mate on The Mist Cutter.”

The name of the ship immediately filled in all the gaps for the wizard. He had heard many stories from travelers while he had lived in the hearth temple, some sailors. And drunken sailors always told stories. And anyone that passed through the hearth temple spoke of their gods. And there was only ever one god among the waves; the good captain, Baelgeryon. And he had been thrown over the plank of The Mist Cutter.

“You’re father killed a god.” Flip muttered.

“My father killed a man, and only… only to spare him a more unavoidable death.”

“Unavoidable?” Dovhran raised an eyebrow, curious himself.

“In his journal, he wrote that he thought… at the time, while the crew was revolting against Baelgeryon for diverting course from their fortune… my father, he thought there was a chance his captain could escape from his chains before he sank to the bottom. But he didn’t.”

“But he became a god instead... and your family will forever live in infamy.” Flip nodded, he attempted to conjure up some form of visible sympathy but could not decide how to do so best. “Who knows what sort of vein of primordial ichor he was sucked into while chained to his anchor… I doubt your father did.”

“That’s kind of you. But I think he knew it was a long shot. And he knew it was selfish of him. Because if he hadn’t, he’d have been thrown over too… and then I might have become the daughter of a god. But I’m the daughter of a coward, a traitor, and a mutineer. And no crew will let me on their ship for it, even if I can guide a ship better than any other sailor on the coast. Even if I’m just as fine a shot as my father.”

Flip did not know how to respond to that. And Dovhran had no intention of comforting the elf. And there was little in the way of conversation that continued beyond that sharing of family secrets. So, with tea sitting in cups, they listened to the rain. Until it stopped.