@dutyworn — semiplotted starter
It is... unsettling, to say the least, to realise that the... thing that monster put behind her eye is somehow cutting off her connection to her patron. Even more so when she realises the loss of his presence in the back of her mind also means a drastic decline in the power she has available to her, much of it just out of reach where it came straight from the Prince of Frost. Though at least that which had came from her time spent in Vale of the Long Night seems to be with her still, if weaker than it should be as well.
Uncertain of how long she had been out, she briefly fidgets with a ring on her finger, muttering the Sylvan incantation under her breath to restore the glamour that masks her mismatched eyes, now a pale, icy blue rather than the otherworldly glow the Feywild and her patron has left her with. There is little to be done right now about the rest, feeling as unstable as she does, a faint trail of frost forming behind her with every step. At least that could be explained away between her gear that she thankfully still possessed and just precisely who her patron is.
Walking up to one of the other pods, she's surprised to find someone inside still — someone who appears to just returning to consciousness themselves, but unlike her own pod, the lid seems to have jammed part of the way.
Frowning at the strange, alien construction of the pod, she reaches out for what she can only assume is part of the mechanisms that controls the lid, supercooled ice spreading from her touch into the inner workings, weakening them to the point that they shatter with barely a touch, the lid falling away to clatter onto the floor as she takes a closer look at the person inside.
Human, that much is clear, simply by the shape of her ears. Dressed in things she's never seen the likes of in Faerûn or in the Feywilds — not that that is always all that surprising, particularly with the latter. Still, as the woman seems to recover her senses, Tavares watches her for a moment longer before looking around the rest of the room.
A few empty pods — their inhabitants presumably having got free on their own — and a few others with the burnt remains of those unlucky enough to make it out alive. They were both lucky in that regard, she supposes, as she looks back to the human.
"If you're coming, I suggest you hurry," she notes, her tone sharp and cold like the first chill of true winter. "I'm not certain where we are, but I do know one thing — we don't want to stay here if we want to live."












