Garden Party
When sleeping, Kalashtar have always written their dreams as being more of a…second consciousness. Mostly they are scattered dreams, things that don’t make sense, things that make her own emotions feel small in comparison. This is different than those times, where there were war and violence, or sadness over something. The most recent one has her partner blocking blow after blow, screaming against their attacker.
Instead of those, it’s something different. There’re no bad memories, instead, there is a full garden, something ancient and old, and out of place given what she has seen. It’s a gazebo made of marble, the columns are carved in a way that spirals up to the wrought-iron roof. Where ivy creates protection from the sun, interlaid with different flowers. There was a wrought iron table in the center, the same pale color as the roof, and kept in place by two similarly made chairs. Their design is one she doesn’t fully understand but knows that it has some importance.
She blinks, and soon one of those chairs aren’t empty, and in the place sits a body, and not in their normal form. Where once there was a terrifying bug-like creature, multiple arms, and legs, and eyes, sits a masculine human who looks like they would walk about her own world. Sharp features, aquiline nose, upturned eyes, and a cascading mane of brown hair that falls down their left side, tied in a ponytail to keep it somewhat managed. She normally would think this scary, or worrisome, especially with soft smile that appears across their face.
“Nova.” It’s odd, when that multi-tonal voice she is so used too. They motion for her to take the other seat. She doesn’t move at first. “Nova. Please sit.”
She holds herself, hands-on her upper arm before she takes a hesitant step forward. One foot after the other until she drags the seat out. It rings in her ears before she sits down and faces the much much older being before her. They wave their hand, and soon the world flickers and a tea set is suddenly there, with steaming hot peppermint tea before her.
“I know it’s your favorite.” Their head cocks to the side, watching her. Nova glances away, looking towards the flowers that are around them. They aren’t anything from Faerun, alien and different, but still beautiful all the same. A quick sidelong glance tells her that Seska is waiting for her to respond, so she does. It’s hesitant, unsure, and more like a mumble than anything she would normally say “…Thank you.”
Their smile grows, and she sees that their teeth are sharper than what would be normal. This thought causes Seska to flush, and look away. Muttering to themselves before they turn back, and the teeth are dull. Just like hers. It’s strange to have someone care enough to do that, so she smiles back. They create such a force of happiness, so powerful through their connection, so she flushes and grabs a cup of tea. Earning a laugh from her friend at the opposite end of the table, who takes their own cup and takes a sip. Their nose scrunches and their lips downturn, the expression comical enough to get a giggle from the girl.
Moments pass in silence, of her quietly viewing the garden and drinking her tea. So much time that when they speak it scares her.
“When you need it, this garden will be yours.” They say cryptically, after gauging her reaction. “You seem to like it.”
Her head begins to shake, that denial ready to pool out of her like a geyser. “I want to give it to you.” They respond rather determinedly, eyes fixing her there. So instead she looks down to her tea and takes a sip. “How can I use it? I…I don’t know magic.”
That softness returns again, and they sit the cup down. They rise, their height climbing far more than she could ever reach, and move to her side. Her teacup goes down as they kneel, and take her now free hands into her own. “When it gets too much, I can send you here. I have enough strength to do so.”
Her rebuttals raise up, and she fidgets in her chair as if allowing this would be wrong. “I-I can’t.”
“You deserve to have this one selfish thing, my dear. Please.” Their tone is begging, as they lean forward. “You deserve it.”
For some reason that causes tears to boil up, welling behind her eyes as she crumples down into the Quori before her. Their arms wrap around her, rubbing her head as she sobs into their shoulder. Murmuring those three words even though she might not believe it.