thecrazyalaskan | in ashes of despaire, though burnt, shall make thee live

Title: in ashes of despaire, though burnt, shall make thee live
Author: fireweed15
Fandom / Setting: Dungeons & Dragons (5e)
Characters / Pairings: Eltoris "Ell" Omaric, Frida
Rating: T
Word Count: 1715
Warnings / Notes: Written for Round XIII of Hurt / Comfort Bingo: Near Death Experience (Wild Card)
Summary: Things we lost to the flames / Things we'll never see again / All that we've amassed / Sits before us, shattered into ash

Inspired by an actual moment at the table. First, Ell succeeded in using a fire-based spell against an enemy, prompting the fire genasi wizard Frida (played by my buddy Chris) to ask "Do you respect the flame as I do?" to which Ell replied with a resounding no. Later, he got a nat 20 to yeet Frida across a ravine, so I joked that he was going "oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oAo " the whole time.

So yeah. Now you know why Ell has crippling pyrophobia! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

✪ ✪ ✪

To call the nook into which they managed to hide themselves a cave would have been generous, but it was room enough to sleep around a low fire Frida set for them.

The only sound to cut the silence, apart from the soft crackle of flames and the shifts and sighs of sleeping bodies, was the murmur of quiet prayers. Frida followed the sound to the back of the cave to find Ell, sitting cross-legged, eyes closed in prayer to his goddess, thumb brushing over the silver strigine icon the way some humans ran their fingers over strings of beads. She waited out of a sense of politeness until he was finished before speaking. "I would speak to you, Brother Omaric."

Ell's eyes opened, and his gaze was naturally drawn to the wizard. "Of course," he replied, shifting slightly and indicating that she could sit as well. "What's bothering you?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Frida replied, dropping to sit cross legged beside him.

Even in the dim light it was obvious his face was losing color. "I… don't understand."

"When I asked if you respect the flame as I do, you said no," she said simply. Not to mention the terror in his eyes right before he pushed her across the ravine to safety, but even that reaction was so deeply private that she didn't dare bring it up.

Ell sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Understand I mean no offense," he began bracingly, "but… There's a difference between respect and healthy fear, I find."

"Of course, but is there any chance you'd explain what that means?" she prompted.

"I'm sure you've noticed my accent isn't from Waterdeep," he started.

Frida nodded—Ell's accent was subtle, but decidedly different from those of Waterdeep's natives. "You're from somewhere farther east, no?"

"Emalon—the town of Emalon…" When he spoke the name of the town, his voice was warm with affection, asif he were speaking of his lover and not his hometown. "Had I been given the choice, I'm sure I would be there still."

The implication was clear, and Frida easily gave it voice. "But you weren't given the choice."

His mouth twisted into a sad smile. "You could say that."

"I'm still confused then," Frida said—far too confident to be an admission, but not so blunt as to cause offense.

Ell's fingers twisted in his lap, the silver edges of the owl icon appearing between them like a thread. "It… all started when then Lord of Emalon died—"

✪ ✪ ✪

—gracious Athena, You who are Wisest among all, guide Emalon in your light as we mourn Lord Dolzorona, and guide his family through their grief—

✪ ✪ ✪

"—and then the political shake-up happened when his wills named his lieutenant his successor."

"What's so unusual about that?"

"Well…"

✪ ✪ ✪

"Uh-uh—out. Both of you, out!"

Ell looks over at his companion, brow furrowed in confusion. Sister Amakiir shrugs helplessly, just as lost. They've been coming to this grocer ever since they'd been initiated into the temple some years prior, and this isn't the usual greeting they received. "Is something wrong?" Ell asks, turning back to the merchant.

There's a flint-like edge to the grocer's words. "You're not welcome here."

"The temple has always come here," Sister Amakiir argues. "What are we going to tell the Reverend Mother when we come back without food for our people and worshippers?"

"Why the sudden change?" Ell adds.

"I don't deny the goddess her dues—but your kind aren't welcome here." The emphatic way he points to the pair, to their slender ears, makes it obvious what the trouble is. "Send someone else—now get out before I throw you out!"

"Let's just leave, Brother Omaric," Sister Amakiir says shortly, wrapping a hand around Ell's arm and bodily pulling from the shop. As they exit, they see, for the first time, a handwritten sign in the window: No Elves

✪ ✪ ✪

"He was a human, and not a lot of people were thrilled about his will naming his Elven second over his sons."

"I see." The fact that Frida found the logic behind this explanation distasteful was unspoken, understood. "What happened after that?"

"Things kept getting worse and worse until, one night… there was a fire."

✪ ✪ ✪

Ell wakes to the sound of running feet and distant cries of… is that fear?

He stumbles out of bed and pulls the door open. His senses are attacked all at once—smoke burns his eyes and nose, a sense of danger overwhelms him as he watches his fellow acolytes rushing past in droves. Some carry artifacts and scrolls and tomes; others carry possessions; still others carry the littlest, or help the elderly, weak and ill.

Ell grabs one of the elder acolytes, making him almost drop an armload of scrolls. "What's going on?"

"Fire—in the sanctuary," he says, the words clipped. "Get what or who you can and get the hell out of here—" He pulls himself out of Ell's grasp and takes off down the hall, disappearing in the panicked flow of foot traffic, of clerics and acolytes and worshippers.

Ell stops long enough to pull on a pair of boots before disappearing into the temple, fighting against the push of people until he manages to break through to the main sanctuary.

His brother's words had done so little to prepare him for what he saw. Banners with holy symbols and depicting scenes of the goddess' life and deeds burn from their hangings, while papers and wood incinerate the second fire danced across their surface; anything silver starts to melt from the intense heat. He throws up his arms to protect his face from the flames, the acrid stench and smoke stinging his eyes and clenching a fist around his throat.

"Brother Omaric!"

He barely hears his name over the roar of the fire. He blinks, seeing someone emerging from the flames. "Mother Lora?" he calls.

The priestess, clad in disheveled gray and blue robes, pushes a pile of tomes into his arms. "Take these and get out, Brother Omaric!"

"But Mother Lora—"

"Save yourself, Brother Omaric," she stresses. "You have to—"

Ell never hears what he has to do. The flames are up at the ceiling, eating away at the beams—a beam that's now cracking and splintering and coming crashing down on the pair.

Ell tumbles gracelessly to the ground, the books spilling across the floor and embers falling from the ceiling landing on them, catching them on fire. He looks up, trying to find Mother Lora—"No!" The priestess' leg is caught under the very beam from which he'd protected him, her voice a pained cry as flames start to lick her robes and flesh.

Ell scrambles across the floor as he wraps his hands in his nightshirt's material and braces them against the beam. "C'mon—"

"Ell, leave me." He meets her gaze, his heart twisting at the quiet acceptance in his eyes. "Save yourself—"

"No!" He turns back to the beam and braces himself to try again. "The temple needs you, Mother Lora! Lady Athena wouldn't let her priestess die—!" Tears sting his eyes (from emotion or the room filling with smoke, he couldn't say) as he strains to lift the beam a few precious inches, the flames dangerously close to them both—

Lora manages to pull her leg out from under the beam, wincing sharply as their burns were exposed to the hot open air.

Ell forces his gaze to stay on the priestess' face. "Let me help you—" He hauls her bodily to her feet and drapes her arm across his shoulder. "We can make it—we can get out—"

The fire has reached other parts of the temple, making their going slow and arduous—dangerous. Other parts of the temple's ceiling were starting to collapse, and abandoned possessions littered the corridor.

By the time Ell and Lora stagger out of the open gates, heads pounding and gasping for breath, the temple is completely ablaze, the flames hot against their backs. Lesser priests and acolytes all but scoop their leader out of Ell's arms to tend to her broken and burnt leg.

Voices swirl around Ell—cries for help and of pain, whispered speculation as to the cause of the fire, prayers to Lady Athena for guidance and relief and answers, open glee that Elves were suffering—

Ell feels the world pitch and tilt, hears a voice calling his name as the ground comes up close incredibly quick—

✪ ✪ ✪

"…and that's the last thing I really remember," he finished.

Frida nodded thoughtfully, the crackle of the fire around them underscoring their silence. "Was anyone hurt?"

Ell shifted slightly, thankful that his time recalling these memories was coming to a close. "Not severely—no one died."

"What was the cause?" she asked.

"A fire in a temple where primarily Elves served in a city where Human-Elven tensions were high?" Pain seemed to dance in Ell's eyes as much as the distant light of their campfire. "It was an accident of course."

Frida looked at Ell pointedly, as if waiting for him to reveal the joke. All he did in reply was shrug helplessly. "The official reports said it was an accident. We all know it was… more than that. After that, Mother Lora sent us all to different ports of call, different towns… I was the one who got the letter sending me to Waterdeep. Taz could tell you the rest if you're interested."

"Not especially." Despite the short words, it wasn't with malice that Frida spoke them—it was with the understanding that the rest of Ell's story was, if not in progress, known between them. "I'm sorry—for your loss, and the pain it causes you."

Ell dipped his head in unspoken thanks. "I hope knowing I'm afraid doesn't upset you."

"Upset, no." A thoughtful pause. "Sad, maybe."

"Sad like… pity?" he asked wearily. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Sad like sorrowful," Frida explained. "Understand, my people draw comfort and strength from the flame—we feel kinship with its warmth." Another thoughtful pause. "Perhaps someday your Lady Athena will see fit to help you feel the same comfort and kinship."

A slight smile touched Ell's face, as if bemused by the thought. "Maybe someday."