the bitter divorce
Gale stumbles backward, stammering as he tries to get his wits about him.
“I- sorry, I didn’t mean- are you hurt? What happened?”
“I’m fine.” Itachi lies. “Just-”
“No, you’re not fine.”
Gale does not like being taken for a fool. Nor does he like when someone so obviously in pain so stubbornly refuses relief.
And- as terrible as what they just saw had been- Itachi is obviously in pain. And Gale wants to understand, even if there’s nothing he can do to actually fix it.
Itachi glares at him with enough venom to freeze water in the middle of summer.
“...Why does it matter?”
Maybe pragmatism will do them more good at the moment than trying to insist that he’s merely concerned.
“Because at the moment we’re all stuck in the same boat. Being miserable will just make it harder for us to get out of this alive. So don’t be stubborn- I want to help.”
“I don’t need help!” Itachi hisses, before, abruptly, he doubles over, body wracked with a terrible coughing fit.
It’s a horrible, hoarse, violent cough, like his lungs are trying to force themselves outside his body.
He drops to his knees from the force of it; Gale tries to keep him somewhat upright and swallow down his panic.
It feels like an eon before it dies down, with Itachi drawing great, rattling gasps of air.
So much for not needing help…
“What in the hells-”
“I’m fine,” Itachi insists, even though he’s clearly the furthest thing from “fine.”
Getting him a glass of water or something would probably be the best thing to do, but Gale seems to have forgotten to bring any, to his own dismay.
(He could probably summon some, but he doubts Itachi would take it.)
“Are you quite sure this isn’t from the tadpole?”
“Yes. I’m sure- now please leave me alone-”
Gale has no intention of doing that, and Itachi probably already knows that. He allows himself to be helped back to his feet, even though he really doesn’t want the help.
It’s not a question he relishes asking, but Gale cannot resist asking anyway- curiosity has always been his biggest weakness, after all.
(That aside, he figures if something strange is going on- if there’s something dangerous lurking in this young man’s heart- it’s better to know what they’re dealing with if they’re going to be traveling together.)
“What we saw- there has to be an explanation for it.”
“Of course there is,” Itachi growls.
“So talk to me then. What the hells happened?”
Itachi shakes his head.
“I can’t-”
The combination of wanting to understand and the annoyance at Itachi being so tight-lipped makes it hard for Gale to keep a lid on his rising temper.
“Why? I would hope you would trust us at least a little by now-”
“No, it’s not about trust- I literally can’t.”
He raises a bloodied hand to his mouth, whimpering like he’s in agony.
He traces a strange symbol across his lips in blood- one that Gale has never seen before.
Some kind of magic, probably. Or, whatever it is they call magic where he’s from.
So… from what Gale can gather, whatever happened, wasn’t Itachi’s doing. Not entirely, anyway.
“...We have to keep it secret,” Itachi mutters. “Sasuke can’t ever know. He can’t know. I already broke his heart-”
Even that much is apparently too much; he bites down on his tongue involuntarily, filling his mouth with blood once again and silencing him.
Gale has never dealt with anything like this before, and as such has no idea what he would do to even start fixing this situation.
Instead, he figures it’s best to try to manage the things he actually has a hope of fixing.
“So the uh- I mean-”
He holds out a handkerchief and holds it at arm’s length.
“This isn’t anything to do with our little friends, is it?” he asks, gesturing at him with his free hand.
Itachi shakes his head, soiling the handkerchief with the bloody mess on his face.
“Fortunately, no. This is just something that happens to me sometimes.”
“That…doesn’t sound normal.”
There is absolutely no mirth in Itachi’s copper-tinged smile.
“It is for me. Has been for a long time now. Don't worry, I haven't started sprouting tentacles yet.”
Gale finds a suitable ledge to sit down on and rest his aching knees, beckoning Itachi to do the same. And, with great reluctance, he does so.
“You should have spoken up. It’s a rough road up ahead- it won’t do to be stumbling about half dead all the time.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Itachi sighs, “But I don’t get a choice.”
He holds his hands palm-up to indicate defeat.
“I’ve been half-dead since the day I was born. All I can hope for at this point is that I hold out long enough to fix this mess before I turn into some kind of monster.”
There’s something terribly sad about that statement, along with how matter-of-factly it’s said.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” is all Gale can say.
“As much as I appreciate that, I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me. I’m not worth the trouble, I promise.”
How terribly sad.
“We have something in common, at least,” Gale mutters, pulling at the back of his neck.
“Hm?”
“I’m not exactly the picture of health, either,” he says, hoping Itachi doesn’t ask him to elaborate further. “Maybe we can commiserate together sometime.”
Itachi looks just a bit less miserable after that, even as he massages the stiffness out of his aching hands.
Blessedly, he doesn’t inquire any further.
“Surely there’s something we can do to help you, though?” Gale asks.
“I was being helped before,” Itachi answers. “Unfortunately our captors weren’t kind enough to grab my medication when they kidnapped me.”
Gale frowns, wondering how he got into this mess.
“What kind do you need? We could ask Shadowheart for help- she’s a cleric, I’m sure she could figure something out.”
“I can’t remember- some of them have made my memory finicky.. Kisame had been keeping track of it for me before…”
“I’ll make sure to ask him about that when we get back, then.”
“I appreciate the thought, but that’s not necessary.”
“Oh, bollocks. We need everyone at their best to make it out of this sans tentacles.”
Gale stands up, his knees crackling with the sudden movement. Itachi stays firmly in place.
“...I'm sorry.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“I didn’t mean to drag any of you into my past. If you don't want anything to do with me after this, I understand.”
“Hey now, I didn't say anything like that. None of us did."
Gale shakes his head, reaching to take Itachi by the hand with no worry about getting blood all over himself.
“Whatever's happened, I'm sure there's a reason for it. I won't pry any further if you aren’t ready to share- but if you need a listening ear, you know where to find me."
Itachi nods in gratitude, and doesn’t say anything more. He allows himself to be led back to the others.
“The fuck just-”
A dirty look from Wyll prevents Hidan from finishing his question.
“What happened to you?” Shadowheart asks, spying Itachi’s bloodied face despite him trying to hide it in the fringe of his hair.
Itachi shrugs.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Gale reassures her, when she’s clearly not comforted by Itachi’s flippant reaction to his sorry state. “Once we’re somewhere a little safer.”
Squinting one eye, Shadowheart contemplates this for a bit before brushing it off.
“If you’re sure.”
Already seeming to know what’s transpired, Kisame swoops in, whipping his coat off and wrapping it around the younger man’s skinny shoulders, giving them a little squeeze of comfort.
“Try not to wander off like that again,” he faux-scolds. “You could get into trouble on your own in a place like this.”
“I’m fine.”
(He’s always saying it, but it’s never any less bullshit.)
Karlach stretches out and yawns, cracking her neck as she does so.
“So uh, we done here or what?”
“We should probably see if the other people stuck here are okay…”
Astarion once again rolls his eyes at Wyll’s noble suggestion, but manages not to comment.
“Those ones in the masks still seem out of it, but it might be worth a shot to see if they know something,” Gale offers. “Or whether they’ve got something useful on them, anyway.”
“Pickpocketing sad wayward souls?” Astarion asks, perking up and rubbing his hands in anticipation. “That sounds horrid- I love it!”
They make their way back in the same direction they came, gingerly stepping over traps and particularly nasty puddles.
The poor masked souls are exactly where they left them, still mumbling to themselves and stumbling around like lost children.
Gale clears his throat to get their attention, and they all snap their heads in his direction.
“Excuse me,” he says. “Do you mind me giving us a bit of time?”
“...Where’s auntie?” one of them mumbles.
“Gone,” Wyll answers. “You don’t have to worry- she won’t hurt you again.”
“Hurt us?”
One of the masked people starts to sob in despair.
“No- Auntie never hurt us- auntie loves us-”
“Here, let me take this mask off and you’ll feel better,” Wyll offers, reaching to pry the strange leather contraption off her.
“Mask? There is no mask- don’t touch me!”
Wyll gives the poor soul a pained look, but leaves her alone.
Another pretty halfling woman approaches him, pulling her own mask off and throwing it aside.
“Thank you.” She says, holding out her hand for a shake. “Much longer of that and I would've wound up like one of them.”
Wyll is the only one to take the outstretched hand out of politeness.
“How did you wind up down here, anyway?”
“My mother. Her mind's been leaving for awhile now, and nothin’ I found could help her. I knew it was too good to be true- but I would've begged Myrkul himself if I thought he would listen…”
She sighs, straightening up.
“Thank you again. I don’t have anything to give you in return, but I won’t forget what you’ve done for me.”
“Where will you go now?” Wyll asks.
“Home. Baldur’s Gate.”
The unfortunate woman offers them one last smile before heading off, never to be seen again.
“What about the rest of them?”
“Man they don’t have a fuckin’ thing to say that’s worth listening to,” Hidan says, storming off from the masked unfortunates with an annoyed huff. “Just leave ‘em, it really doesn’t matter- they don’t even have any cash on ‘em anyway.”
“Hate to say it, but he’s not wrong,” Karlach sighs. “There’s not much to be done for ‘em in this state.”
“We can’t exactly drag them around with us anyway,” Astarion whines. “Now can we get out of here?”
“We’ll get there, don’t be so precious” Orochimaru scolds him.
“Who’s being precious? It smells like death and rot in here, do you want to linger?”
“It’s far from the least pleasant place I’ve ever been in my life- you’ll live if it takes another few minutes.”
Lae’zel growls in impatience as well.
“I hope we have learned about the futility of chasing false cures for our infection,” she snarls. “We must stop wasting time and locate a creche immediately.”
“I dunno about anyone else,” Kisame says, “but I gotta agree- nothing else we’ve looked at has gotten us anywhere so far. It’s about time we found someone who knows what they’re doing.”
Lae’zel makes an approving sound and waves at him in a what he said sort of gesture.
“The teethlings should know something about it, if the ones who mocked me were any indication. We need to talk to them. Immediately.”
“...did you just call them teeth-lings?” Shadowheart asks, with a snicker.
Lae’zel looks confused, then rolls her eyes.
“I am unfamiliar with your realm,” she says, folding her arms in irritation. “You will educate me in the matters of your fay-run.”
“Faerun.” Shadowheart corrects her, to which Lae’zel rolls her eyes harder.
Nobody says a single word as they find their way back through the lair, and back into the grimy teahouse.
It’s more of a relief than they thought it could be to see the sun once again, even through the bog's haze.
They head outside to the swamp, even the stench of the swamp a relief compared to the suffocating miasma of the lair below.
“So, what are these little creatures?”
“Redcaps. If we ignore them, they should leave us be- but don’t take any chances.”
The little monsters hiss and mutter to themselves, occasionally making strangled sounds that almost sound like the bleating of a sheep.
Perhaps trying to keep up whatever ruse Ethel had going here, unaware that she’s already probably leagues away.
“Hey, isn’t that Ethel’s little guest?” Orochimaru asks, pointing to a figure a short distance off.
Sure enough, when they approach it, they see Mayrina dragging a battered coffin through the muck, sobbing all the way.
“Hey, lady!” Hidan calls out, running up toward her. “The fuck are you doing?!”
Mayrina startles.
“You scared the life out of me-”
She wraps her arms around herself, shivering even though the muggy heat is overwhelming.
“I know I should keep going…but dragging his coffin all the way home-”
She shakes her head, her breath catching in her throat.
In his pocket, the want Hidan had picked up seems to come to life, heating up and quivering as if in anticipation.
Like it wants to be used…
He pulls it out and aims it at the coffin, somehow knowing this is the right thing to do.
“What? What is that? Can it bring him back?”
“I think so?” Hidan answers.
“Do it!” Mayrina demands, her voice growing increasingly shrill. “Bring him back! Bring Connor back! Please!”
Such a pathetic, desperate woman.
Still, the want is wordlessly nagging him to be used, so he gives it a wave, causing a flash of greenish light to shoot from the tip into the coffin.
The corpse within stirs, then pushes the lid off and clambers out with uncoordinated movements.
“What- no-”
Hidan laughs at the absurdity of it all, as Mayrina’s deceased husband’s gaze wanders around aimlessly.
“Well I guess that’s your husband back to life.”
“Back?! Bits of him are falling off!”
Mayrina is very near tears once again, hysterical at the state of her former beloved.
“Look, lady. That bitch said she’d bring your husband back- this is her keepin’ her promise. Do you want him or not?!”
“But I wanted him back the way he was! Not like-”
Mayrina looks at the decrepit corpse in front of her, peering into cloudy, vacant eyes.
“I-I don’t even know if he’s in there…”
She waves her hand in front of the corpse’s face. The corpse seems to try to focus its stare, to little success.
“...Love? Can you hear me? Connor?”
Connor mumbles something that almost sounds like her name, raising his rotten hands toward her with jerky, twitching motions.
“Maybe it isn’t permanent?” She asks, more to herself than to Hidan. “We could- we could find a wizard or something. They can fix him.”
Hidan hands the wand over with a dismissive shrug.
“Good luck with that.” He says, turning around to group back up with the others.
“...Alright. Thank you- I think.”
Mayrina takes her husband carefully by the hand, holding the want in the other.
“Come on now, love. Let’s go home.”
The corpse obediently follows his wife, andn they leave his coffin behind as they vanish into the distance.
“Is- is that a happy ending?” Hidan asks, scratching the back of his head and scrunching his nose up in confused disgust.
Everyone exchanges uncomfortable looks.
“They’ll need more than just any wizard to fix that,” Gale admits. “This sort of thing would be beyond even my power to repair."