Arachne's heart seemed to stop as she had her hands played across her face in a poor attempt to shield herself from the gaze of the attendants of the ball itself, each one glaring at her as they turned their heads to see the monster that they thought her as, faces of disgust and fear scattered about the room. Her mask was laid upon the floor, and, with haste, she took hold of it and attempted to place it back on her face to hide it so as to have some semblance of protection of the sharp stares of the men and women around her, however that proved fruitless due to the fact that the strings were broken.
There was screaming all about the room as faces of fear shifted into faces of hatred and violence, even the man that stood beside her seemed to realize his mistake and slowly backed away, no doubt thinking of how he would have spited her had she been a true Lolthite. He stumbled on his feet due to the level of intoxication he had reached, and, blue eyes wide and shot, falling into the table nearest to her platform, being caught by another man as he fell.
She felt paralyzed, still remaining on her chair as she heard the King call for something over the overwhelming noises surrounding them, the double doors being forced open soon after as a group of men and women in silver and gold armor marched through the frame and into the ballroom, helmets draped over their heads, hiding their faces from her gaze and from any damage she could call upon them. Swords were drawn as they made their way towards her, the nobles making way for them.
The drow elf recognized them as guards of some sort, although it was strange to not see a woman at the head of any charge, although it was hard to tell anyhow, but all she knew was that she was either going to be thrown into some dank dungeon to never be heard of again, or was going to be killed at that very moment for even daring to infiltrate such an important event of joy and celebration. Either way, there was little chance that the night would continue due to the stir she had caused in the nobles.
Arachne stood up shaking her hands anxiously as guards began to close in at the King's behest amongst all of the screaming and shouting terms unknown to her, which were probably slurs of some form, her lavender eyes held open in large circles as she backed up against the wall behind her, removing her ring from her finger as she held it against her mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to it, almost as if wanting to tell Amalica that she was coming to join her in the life after.
A voice cut through the room as Arachne felt a hand begin to grab her, shaking the very ground of the ballroom as it enunciated itself with authority, only uttering one word that seemed to cease all movement. "Enough!" it screamed, the guards beginning to step back as they turned to face the source of the voice, feminine in nature.
The drow elf lowered her hands from her face as she slipped her ring back on, turning to face the source of the voice, who stood near the elongated table both the King, Queen, and their revered guests had been sitting at the beginning of the night. She was the pallor elf with blue hair from before, the small gnomish boy standing beside her, fidgeting with his fingers anxiously.
She wore a beautiful silver gown that contrasted perfectly against her pale skin, the top of the dress having thick straps as the neckline dipped in the center of her chest, splitting her breasts apart with a trail of embroidered flowers connecting a protruding skirt that fluffed out around her waist, akin to a tutu, which seemed to have created a trail of skirt that dragged behind her as she walked. And below the skirt itself was the continuation of the dress, with a blue ombre in the back to differentiate itself from the base metallic color, a path of embroidered pink flowers scattered about both skirts.
She had wide and youthful looking blue eyes and thin pink lips, her light cobalt hair tied back into a loose braided ponytail, pink flowers being woven into her gossamery locks, a circlet of some sort resting against her forehead, the gold of it subtly glimmering against the candlelight. Her mask hid little of her face, for it was designed beautifully in the sense that it mimicked some sort of insect, a butterfly she thought it would have been called, which was wrapped around her head no doubt by the means of magic. Despite her childlike appearance, she still carried herself with such authority that it seemed as if she controlled the entire ballroom.
Her smaller friend seemed to wave his hands a bit, and a magical air surrounded Arachne for a moment, all of the voices around her suddenly becoming comprehensible, her own ability to understand and speak the common tongue seeming to have been bolstered by an artificial means. For a moment the drow elf began to think that whatever this had been was orchestrated by the strange elf and her gnomish accomplice.
"Lady Merliah," the King began, walking towards her with a scowl on his face, "you would do best to remember your place in my palace. You may be an esteemed guest for your efforts to protect our city, but you know just as well as I do that drow are not to be trusted! The women far less!"
The elven maiden bowed her head to the King, a small smile teasing her lips, "And I do know my place, Your Majesty, but I am afraid to say that she is one of my wards, and is my responsibility. She is quite harmless, my liege." She turned to the drow elf for a moment, winking past her mask, "Isn't that right, Arachne?"
She knew her name. Her name. This elf clearly knew something she didn't.
In pure shock, Arachne only managed to stumble on her words, looking at the woman with an apprehensive expression on her face that could have easily been taken for some form of fright, "Y-yes, my lady. I'd never hurt anyone, I promise."
The King cleared his throat as he turned his head back to glare at Arachne for a brief moment before he turned to face Merliah, the elven maiden, once again, who had her arms crossed and wrapped around her figure, her hip cocked outwards despite her large, voluminous skirt. Even still, the man before her spoke his words, which seemed to lighten the air of the room just a tad, "Then take her with you now. The night is over due to the spoiled spirits. You and your wards," he uttered bitterly, "may leave now."
Merliah nodded, courseying once again, her legs appearing to stumble as she did so, closing her eyes as a gentle smile rose upon her features, which remained even as she rose and began to speak once again, "Thank you very much for your hospitality, Your Majesty. I wish you the best tidings on your anniversary night." She grabbed the boy's hand beside her, his hands so miniscule that the gnome had to hold onto her thumb, and, while the drow elf wished she could focus on such a sentiment, Arachne instead saw the elf beckon for her with her fingers as the entire ballroom kept their gaze on the three of them. "Come along, dear. We mustn't dawdle."
Arachne nodded sheepishly, pulling her hood up again as she moved her feet with haste to meet the aquamarine-haired woman and the child adjacent to her, moving to walk beside her on the opposing to side, noticing quite well the discomfort of which the gnome seemed to carry himself. The drow elf knew not if it was simply his own demeanor, or if it was because of their unlikely meeting, but, either way she felt a wave of sympathy wash over her subtly, just as the wind would have done were there to be any in the confined room of which they were exiting.
Penetrating gazes bored into the back of each of their skulls, hushed whispers dancing about the ballroom in a crude position, whatever spell the child having had cast seeming to have worn off or reached the end of its duration, for the words spoken soon fell back into a land of unknown as she was so accustomed.
It was strangely quiet as the past through the double doors, the only noise to accompany them was the small sounds the flames mounted upon the candles and torches hanging upon the noise acting as the same whispers uttered in the ballroom. Merliah seemed to know where she was going, which was comforting to say the very least, no doubt for both Arachne and the gnomish child, whose air of unease still remained as prominent as it had been before.
As they made their way through the halls of the palace, Arachne took a moment to think over what had just occurred, and how the woman beside her knew her name and that she would have been in dire need of aid should she be found out just as she had been? Had she been speaking with either Ryleigh or Ezili, perhaps both? Had that been what the mariner had been hiding in her words that seemed to hold itself in the letter she had sent with her? Perhaps it had been planned by the three of them so she could end up where she was now: in the hands of this Merliah. This elf.
Arachne turned her head to face the pallor maiden for a moment, noticing a limp in her stride that originated in her left leg, which happened to be the side the drow elf was standing on in regards to her, who, despite the clear confidence in the way she walked, was clearly experiencing some form of difficulty in doing so. There was something certain about her and that was the magical aura emanating from her like perfume, and, somehow, she had an inkling that such an aura could have something to do with her limp.
The had found themselves in the road, a trail of carriages lined up in front of the palace grounds, and, continuing to follow Merliah, she soon found herself standing in front of a beautifully elegant black and silver carriage that shone against the reflection of the moonlight, music still hanging in the air. The night breeze was alleviating, and, for a moment Arachne had forgotten the very reason she was breathing it at the time anyways, before refocusing with the sound of a snap.
It was the elf, who seemed to have summoned two astral and transparent horses which were connected to the carriage itself, the step of it flying downwards as the door flung open, allowing for all of them to enter and sit together, if that was the proper term for it. Merliah and the gnome sat together on one side of the carriage, the side facing the horses, while Arachne sat alone with her head hung low and her fingers intertwined together.
And when they began to move, Arachne opened her mouth to speak in elvish, still remaining to look downwards at her lap, sighing beforehand. "Why did you do that? It's not very common for my kin and your own kin to get along, let alone save each other's skins. I doubt I can be that important to you." She pressed her fingers together as she further sunk into the silk cushions below her.
Merliah smiled, still holding onto the gnome child's hand with a gentle hand, squeezing it slightly just before she began to speak, her voice almost ethereally perfect, "First, I must apologize to my friend who tore your mask down, I so desperately needed to see your face. You've caused quite the stir, I'll let you know. So much so that I know little about you but I know enough from my conjoined sources. Ezili is one of them. And perhaps you know the Gray Sword Syndicate as well?" Arachne shifted in her seat with a bit of discomfort at the sheer amount of things this woman knew that the drow elf had thought to be under the wraps, and even ore was she beginning to believe that her sailor friend, Ryleigh, and Merliah were part of the same scheme. Noticing her unease, the elven woman continued, "I know where you hail, more than most would, I think, and I also have knowledge of your arcane talents. I have heard many things. Some believe you are a bard with much promise, while others see you as a wizard such as myself." she paused for a brief moment, "But I give you a choice. For some, such as some in your own home, believe that you are blessed by some higher entity."
"Eilistraee." Arachne muttered to herself.
"Perhaps," Merliah replied, "but that is not for us to decide, is it? All I know of is that I am presenting you with a choice that may predict the course of your life. There is no right decision, mind you, but it is something you must decide for yourself and not for anyone else." The elven woman let loose a sigh that echoed through the silence of the carriage as it bounced against the jagged road, "I know only what has occurred to you in your time in Abburth, but not of what has happened over the last seventeen years. But there is obviously a reason why you have fled to the surface, of this I am certain. Anyone that you have lost will have wanted you to make the right decision for yourself and the way you live."
The drow elf looked to Merliah for the first time since she had come to her rescue in the ballroom only a half hour prior to the conversation, and, whilst holding her head as high as she could against the evident power the elf held despite her passive demeanor. "And what are these choices? You make such a large deal of them that I'd prefer to know them before you regale me with their importance once again."
She paused for a moment, realizing the sudden shift in her tone since the last time she had interacted as seriously as she had been with the very woman in front of her, although the severity of the situation had shifted, for since the last time Arachne had spoken to someone in this much detail over a serious matter was with Mother Maccis nearly four years ago. Even then, she still treated her as if she was an overruling matriarch, as many who were tainted by the Lolthites had, but even then her last audience with the priestess was just that, and nothing more. Her communication with this Merliah was far more important, and she was somehow managing to procure some form of sarcasm as if she was with a friend.
In fact, she was acting very similarly to Amalica in that sense, for, despite the obvious criticality for what she was meant to decide, and for the very reason she spoke to the elf that night, she showed the same deceiving resolve as her fiance once did. It was a bittersweet realization, a sudden pang of despondent air emanating from her for a moment before she returned to her tranquil state as before.
Merliah looked at Arachne with solemnity swimming in her blue eyes, something almost reassuring to the drow elf, "You could choose to leave here, sink into the under city and do whatever you please amongst those less fortunate, or you could stay in my care, just as Erky does," she turned to look down at the gnomish child beside her, a blush reaching his features before he hid himself away in the maiden's side. "And you would either learn the ways of wizardry or of the more… magical capabilities that come with being a bard, perhaps even both if you feel up to the challenge."
She thought little of it, for she was being offered a place to stay in the company of a woman in power, the obvious answer being 'yes' to anyone in their correct mindset, and not only was this powerful dame offering her a chance to live in the very city she called home, but was also giving Arachne the chance to master the magical talents she had harbored for such a long time. The strange bursts of somehow maniacal and dangerous song could be answered, and perhaps even controlled, and this Merliah seemed safe enough.
"Then I shall stay with you, but we will see what arcane path I take." Arachne replied swiftly, the excitement in her voice scarcely being hidden as she spoke, "I offer my sincerest gratitude, my lady–"
"Call me Merliah, dear." she corrected.
"Very well then, Merliah. I do still offer my gratitude, I can only assume it can't be easy, given our kin's colorful history." Arachne sighed, watching intently as the small boy, Erky, his name was, wrench his head from out of Merliah's side as he looked at her with wide, sparkling, curious green eyes. He smiled at her. It was a small thing, but in the eyes of a child she was a monster, she knew that much, and to see such a trivial mannerism on the surface was akin to finding gold amongst a vein of silver.
The elf chuckled, "You would be surprised, my dear Arachne, how the times have changed. Most of my kin have given up their hatred for your kind only until you appear, and even then, it is far less than it once was. I do know it is quite the opposite for your kin, but I am willing to set aside our differences if you are." She reached out one of her pallor hands for the drow to shake.
"Deal," Arachne uttered, taking her hand and shaking it, a smile teasing her lips.