"Unbelievable!" Ishta burst out, her voice echoing slightly in the underground dormitory chamber tucked away beneath the Druid's grove. "That cold-hearted, pig-headed, racist witch would rather see all these refugees slaughtered than risk a single leaf of her precious grove."
Her words, drenched in contempt, reverberated off the stone walls, intricately carved with ancient druidic lore. The flickering candlelight cast erratic, ghost-like shadows, causing the lush greenery clinging to the rock surfaces to sway ominously.
As Ishta paced, her boots grinding against the earthen floor, Gale watched her with a calm yet attentive posture, leaning against one of the rough-hewn stone tables that held scattered books and wax-dripped candles.
"I concur," he finally said, his voice laced with disdain. "That woman has more venom in her heart than a snake does in its fangs. I'm only surprised you didn't render her unconscious like you did the last fellow."
Stopping mid-step, Ishta turned sharply to face him, her expression filled with weary sarcasm. "Despite evidence to the contrary, I don't actually go around punching everyone I dislike in the jaw, Gale," she shot back.
Seizing the moment to lighten the tense atmosphere, Gale pushed off from the table, dislodging a small cascade of candle wax onto the floor. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he closed the distance between them. "I was merely teasing you," he admitted, his voice softening.
"I have to admit, it was somewhat of a struggle to contain my own ire while listening to Kagha back there... so I can only imagine how much of a battle it was for you." His smile was warm and sympathetic, aimed at easing her anger.
"What is youth if not a time to be forgiven for one's transgressions?" he added playfully, hoping to coax a genuine smile from her.
Ishta cocked her head curiously at him. "Sounds like you have something to confess."
Gale chuckled, his laughter echoing softly around the stone chamber. "Ha! And you don't? You're wholly without vice or sin or the occasional lapse in judgment? No - you don't strike me as quite that boring."
"Boring is the one thing I am absolutely determined never to be," Ishta grinned back, her anger dissipating into the shared jest.
"Well, you appear to be doing a good job of that so far," came a wry comment from Shadowheart, who had been silently observing from a corner of the room.
Ishta glanced over and noticed Shadowheart massaging her hand with a grimace on her usually composed face. Concern washed over Ishta's features and she gave the Cleric a questioning look.
Shadowheart avoided her gaze at first but then sighed in resignation. "I know that look - you're wondering why I was in pain before. Let's just clear the air about that now."
She looked down at her hand, avoiding eye contact with Ishta. "It's an old wound that flares up from time to time. Nothing to be concerned about. It's not related to the tadpoles, in case your imagination is running wild. Just something I have to live with".
Ishta could tell there was more to the story than Shadowheart was letting on, not just from her words but from the way her shoulders tensed and her gaze averted.
"How badly does it hurt?" Ishta asked, her voice softening with empathy as she stepped closer, her concern palpable in the dim light of the chamber.
Shadowheart hesitated, her expression a mask of stoicism as she forced a nonchalant shrug. "Quite a lot, if I'm being honest. But it always passes quickly, so I can manage," she replied, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of pain.
Ishta narrowed her eyes slightly, detecting the slight evasion. "Does it have anything to do with you being a follower of Shar?" she asked, her tone cautious yet direct.
YOU ARE READING
Ishta: Blood Huntress of Baldur's Gate
FanfictionUPDATED WEEKLY: Ishta Dawnstar was once a renowned Monster Hunter and Vampire Slayer from the enigmatic Xindite race in the Aglarond region of Faerûn. Her skills with sword and bow were as terrifying as her ferocity in battle, and Undead up and down...
