Role

Chapter 6

Rethienne had been guilty of it too, of course. Throughout the reknowned
Inn of the Eternal Star, staff were dressed as macabre ghouls of all sorts,
and few customers paid them any mind, recognizing the All Hallows Eve season.
But... some of the ghouls at the inn were very much real. Most notably
Maellina, the librarian of the Lyceum, whose very body was literally nothing
more than a lifeless husk after the infamous incident. It was surely natural,
then, for folks to presume that others out back were similarly victimized, as
sad as it may have been.

And everyone had gotten used to undead Maellina and the others, just like
they were used to the shapeshifters and conjurers and pumpkin people. The
latter three Rethienne passionately crusaded against, and while Maellina
and others had unsettled her... she had let the Heralds worry about that.

But then, there she was, face to ghoulish face with one of the folk
out back of the inn, decidedly NOT in costume. Therethine Eil-Lithume,
her mouth and eyes absent, her nose nothing more than slits with a bone
shoved in, moved in hypnotic fashion, absently plucking at a pincushion,
still conducting sales of her garments. Rethienne and the dwarven bard
Larhetlas had rushed out back when they heard an especially painful
wail, and Rethienne came to this spot when she heard the similarly painful
sound of good fabric being randomly ripped. Or was it flesh?

As Rethienne looked at the unfortunate garment-seller, the creature oddly
became more animated. Chestnut brown hair shook wildly, tangled between
pointed ears. And a long, sinewy neck bore a vibrant tattoo of climbing
ivy. Therethine. Rethienne.

Rethienne suddenly grew sick, vomiting! The creature tried in turn to mimic
the noise, and the flesh on her face ripped. Blood spilled everywhere.
Rethienne fell to the ground, trembling. The creature fell to its knees,
convulsing, almost as if weeping. Rethienne instinctively crawled
to the figure, only to find that it... grabbed one of her feet and petted it.
Rethienne felt her life force, felt her sorrow, felt her confusion, and
held Therethine. Therethine then squeezed her... painfully, fiercely.

Rethienne pulled away. Larhetlas tried his best to comfort them both.

As Rethienne stood up, she cursed to the air accusations of dark magic or
poison, confusion and trauma overpowering the familiarity she had felt.
Rethienne ran.

As Larhetlas called after her, Therethine Eil-Lithume remained on the
ground, her hands and face bleeding, and the rest of her limp as a wilted
onion.