Original Family Disappointment

@amarright

It had been a few days since Zeerith’s less than stellar introduction to Obsian, and he had finally managed to find his feet. It hadn’t taken much doing; he was used to living in underground cities, even if this one wasn’t quite what he was used to. The finer points still mildly eluded him, but that wasn’t totally new either. He was sure it would all work out eventually. He’d settled in. Starting from scratch had been a bit of a challenge, but he’d always had a knack for making new contacts. He also had a knack for spotting other thieves, a talent that was currently coming in very handy.

The human he’d spotted probably thought he was being very sneaky, and who knew? Maybe to the other humans in the city, he was being sneaky. Still, picking pockets wasn’t easy, and there were those guards about. Zeerith might not be the most upright person in the world, but he wasn’t about to stand back and let someone get arrested for no reason. As far as he knew, the guards here would be exactly as ruthless as the noble’s bodyguards in Menzoberranzan.

The would-be thief didn’t seem to be noticing Zee’s attempts at the cant sign for danger. A distraction, then. He straightened up from the wall he had been leaning against, double checking his hood was up and mostly covering his face, and cast dancing lights. A single point of bright, glowing light sprung into being some distance away, drawing most people’s attention for at least a moment, and giving Zeerith enough time to slip across to the human and lightly tap his arm.

Zeerith prided himself on, at the very least, being able to pretend he was doing alright in any situation. A calm head, that was him. Waking up behind bars in what was unmistakably an underground city, though, with no memory of how he’d found himself there? That had caused a deep, all-encompassing panic. In Zee’s experience, the only cities below ground belonged to the duregar, or the drow. Either way, it was bad for him. Illdath had a lot of contacts.

If the little human hadn’t have come along to let him out when he did, Zeerith would have forced his way out of the barred window, and to the hells with his belongings.

The panic hadn’t quite passed. He had his hood up, ponytail tucked carefully away to prevent it swinging forward. He’d felt the face scarf was a little too much, and left it off, though he’d kept the tinted glasses on. A little suspicious in the gloom, maybe, but they hid his eyes. The casual observer probably wouldn’t suspect he was an elf at all, let alone guess who he was, which was the point. He’d needed a minute to gather himself.

He was pretty certain now, at least, this wasn’t a drow city. Not enough spider motifs, or people being gutted in the street. Or drow, if you wanted to get technical. Which didn’t explain what this city was, or why he was here. Or why he felt... not like himself. He hadn’t listened to the human’s explanation in the prison, too busy expecting a knife in his back.

Trying to read the letter he’d been given while he was still walking seemed like a recipe for disaster, which hadn’t stopped him trying. He didn’t want to stay still. It made trying to read very difficult too, especially with his glasses also in the way, but there hadn’t been any serious disasters. At least, until somebody’s outstretched foot caught his, sending him flying. And dropping the letter square in a puddle, along with his hand and half his sleeve.