#act 3.

@unfortunatedarling inquired – “I have to pee – can you move?”

𝐈𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 to register what they're saying. He looks back once, then twice... before scoffing. " What?? "

He swoops back, gesturing to his various wine bottles in the Astral Plane. " Are you planning to piss in my wine?? "

𝐇𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐫'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞, yet the illithid holds firm. The cards are still his to play despite the drawback of his... identity. His allies, including @bloodsoakedurge are already aware that his demise would result in their own, yet he knows there's no promise the Bhaalspawn wouldn't give in to his urges.

" You can inquire what you wish, but I can not guarantee I have the answers you seek... " The Emperor speaks calmly, beckoning a glass of wine to his palm. Something is telling him he's going to need it.

@unfortunatedarling inquired – "So you know, when you say you ate the brains of criminals... what kind of criminals are we talking about here? Murderers? Aggravated assault? Pickpockets?" *Gods I'm so glad I never tried robbing anyone near the Elfsong*

Upon hearing her thoughts, a flutter of amusement trickles into her mind. Even if she did commit robbery back when he needed to... satiate his appetites, it didn't mean she would've on the menu. The illithid diet requires a brain within a thirty day period. Thus he was able to select his meals more meticulously, but he did indulge now and again.

" Correct... I preferred murderers, but if my hunger demanded more I chose individuals who's crimes I witnessed. " They ranged from all sorts of crimes from horrific to petty. Not that it mattered at the time. He was fed.

@never-surrender inquired – ❛  the sun will rise and we will try again.  ❜ (as Aubreys healing him maybe?)

Strength slowly flourishes back into his form. The attack of the Githyanki was a large oversight… One he silently curses himself for. Surrounding them are slain intellect devourers. They were companions who kept him company within the lonely abyss of the Astral Prism. He can't look upon them for long. His frustrations mustn't be exposed as their enemy hasn't been fully dealt with– and because the outlier heals him.

" Thank you… " His tone airs on the side of caution. She wasn't one of his infected. Though she's proved herself useful to them throughout their journey thus far, how will she react… how will they all react when they learn they learn their Guardian was nothing more than a facade.

" There's still a number of Githyanki lurking. We mustn't allow ourselves to be vulnerable for long. "

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰. An aura of confusion comes to pass, but it's a slight annoyance that remains in its wake. Why does such a phrase fester old memories– memories that are still locked behind the shroud of partialism.

Much of it he can recall. Balduran's willful and arrogant personality will forever be woven into the fibers of his being. That much he doesn't mind. It's what he still can't pick apart without manifesting a headache that he can't stand.

So he'll need to reflect later on this sentiment.

He swirls his almost empty cup of wine. The soft hum of the Astral Plane weaving a thread of contemplation between them. Perhaps...

" No. " The illithid dumps his remaining wine over the leech's head. He will not entertain such possibilities.

@sageofthestrange inquired – "Would you have any reservations against answering some... research inquiries, on being an illithid?"

" No… " It would be a perfect opportunity to speak of the superiority of the illithid kind. Though he knows to maintain a level of professionalism. A slip of thought may undo his plans, but if she's already curious…

He holds his hands behind his back. A steady gaze falls upon his ally with cautious interest. He's also aware of the various texts non-illithids have written. Most are of negative and biased nature, so hopefully her inquiries don't fall into the same trap. " What do you wish to know? "

A deep, audible sigh passes through his maw. No time passes through the Ast.ral Plane, and yet... his headaches are seemingly on a time schedule.

He beckons a cork free of its bottle with a firm clench of his hand. It should do the trick.