peace only in death.

I imagine Djahima’s singing voice sounds something like this. Deep, airy, and haunting. This is probably their default singing voice.

Djahima is a classically trained opera singer. Their “adoptive mother”, Zashdalah, discovered that they had an impressive vocal range. This skill was often utilized when Djahima played both the parts of “Djamilah” and “Ibrahima”, the girl and boy performers, at the same time. This was also applied to their training as a voice actor.

Though Djahima outright refuses to sing for practically anyone and anything after escaping their mother’s clutches, they have used their vocal training skills in interrogations and torture as a Loviatan monk. They possess the uncanny ability to mimic voices which can aid them in breaking people’s will.

The Calishite peered over at Karlach in the corner of their eye. The tiefling was typically so bold and devoid of fear, a one-woman stampede in battle should it come to it. And yet she now quivered so much like mergrass in the wind.

It had really been a fortunate coincidence—or unfortunate, in Karlach's case—that the platform suddenly began to work with a palm strike to the wheel. Djahima had no intentions of sticking around to puzzle out the finer details of carpentry and cog-work, but on occasion, brute force was indeed a solution that would get fast and favorable results. The others should take note.

"Of course. A common desire," They responded to the barbarian's babbling about wanting to stay alive. "Look on the positive side: should we fall, at least our last moments will be thrilling. And our deaths would be instantaneous, if we're lucky." If Karlach was looking for some semblance of comfort from the Chosen of Loviatar, chances were she wasn't going to find it.

She was just ready to get back onto solid ground. It wasn't even heights that bothered her, it was the emptiness underneath her. She could climb a mountain and be found, overlook a whole tower; but to know there was open space underneath her left her unbalance and nerved. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, though refusing to let go of the side as if it would be her one chance of hope to survive if this thing did give out on her. Karlach's teeth ground together as she clenched her hands, her nails digging into the wood that she left indinctions from it. 

Deep breath in, and then one out, as little puffs of smoke filtered around the corner of her lips and glanced over to Calim as they spoke. "That's a positive note!?" Karlach's eyes widen. "You know, the point of being alive is... staying alive?" Karlach said as her eyes were a little wide. "Nay, let's not die, okay?" Karlach half chuckled as she tapped her claw against the side and she took another deep breath, working to keep her breathing steady as she looked forward to the ending platform that was still too far away.

"Never seen one of those," Karlach admitted though the fact it could swallow those two creatures told Karlach just how large it was. "Damn, you are a ray of sunshine, Calim," Karlach laughed as she shook her head. "but you got a bit of a point. but hey, if it swallowed me, I just burn it from the inside out. A bit of a boom and it would explode. Perks to being a burning engine," Her hand reached over to hit the center of her chest, the clank of her fist against metal as she tapped the plates that protected her engine. Karlach leaned her head back against her post, taking the chance to keep talking as it distracted her from her situation at hand. 

It was possible that the others have been led to believe that Djahima was fearless—or just out of their gods damned mind. They carried themself with an air of fortified certainty. What that certainty was, no one besides the Calishite monk themself knew. But in terms of fear, the reality was this: Djahima very much does feel fear. The way they handled and even processed it, however, could not be considered normal.

Djahima, with their strong arms crossed over their bandaged chest, kept looking ahead at the Temple of Lathander. Judging just by appearances alone, no monks were left to tend to the place of worship signified, signified by how the jungle had long since overtook parts of its structure. "I suppose dying now would be a slap in the face. After going through all that trouble." Djahima replied to the tiefling in their impassive baritone.

The Loviatan gave one last scan of the area, convinced that it was bereft of worshipers, but likely not of other things. The Gith were quite proficient at killing things from what they understood; perhaps they were here. Or still are.

◈　 ⇢  @calimshaman　 ⋯　 Continued Ask ♡ 　⸻ An irrational fear of heights so trying to talk about anything for distraction.

When it came to fights or even just normal activities, Karlach could handle anything! Throw her at some undead, she's got that. Taking down some hyenas and gnolls, no problem. She'll have conversations with the birds, talk to the flowers, and admire the beauty of the world around her.

But bridges. Fucking. Bridges.

A part of her had almost hoped the gears would not work and they just had to find a different route down, but Djahima had figured out how to get the device working. The rickety platform swayed in the air as it moved closer, and she just stared at it with apprehension in her eyes. It was a moving bridge; stationary or moving; a bridge was a bridge. "Fuck fuck fuck," She whispered under her breath, as she wished it had been anything else but this. Karlach's hooves hit the wood it groaned and she gritted her teeth. She crouched down, her arm wrapped around one of the wood railings, and closed her eyes.

"Ha.. hahaha," Karlach laughed nervously and nodded her head. "Yeah, they probably have a forest fire down there if they try to eat me. Though, I prefer for this wooden lift not to give out. I like living, and breathing, and not falling to my death," Karlach spoke, her voice edged with nerves as her claw lightly tapped against the wood. One, two, three. One, two, three. A steady tap tap in distraction to her nerves and hatred of bridges, especially those that moved. "So, do you have plants like this where you used to live? What did you call it, megafauna?" Karlach questioned, wanting to keep the subject on anything but her irrational fear of bridges and the unsteady feeling under her hooves. Damn, she couldn't wait to be on flat land again.

The Calishite peered over at Karlach in the corner of their eye. The tiefling was typically so bold and devoid of fear, a one-woman stampede in battle should it come to it. And yet she now quivered so much like mergrass in the wind.

It had really been a fortunate coincidence—or unfortunate, in Karlach's case—that the platform suddenly began to work with a palm strike to the wheel. Djahima had no intentions of sticking around to puzzle out the finer details of carpentry and cog-work, but on occasion, brute force was indeed a solution that would get fast and favorable results. The others should take note.

"Of course. A common desire," They responded to the barbarian's babbling about wanting to stay alive. "Look on the positive side: should we fall, at least our last moments will be thrilling. And our deaths would be instantaneous, if we're lucky." If Karlach was looking for some semblance of comfort from the Chosen of Loviatar, chances were she wasn't going to find it.