Blurg had only been mildly worried.
Which, in retrospect, may have been a mistake on his part.
But, in all honesty, he didn't think he had any reason to be. Omeluum was its own person, fully grown and fully capable of taking care of itself. It had gone on extended trips out into the city before and came back no worse for wear. If all else failed, it had a host of mental capabilities in its repertoire-- for as much as it had turned its back on its fellow Illithid, it was still one of them, and thus could do everything its counterparts could. And since said counterparts were notoriously dangerous...
Well, it meant Blurg wasn't any more concerned than the scant few times Omeluum had missed a check-in before. Could you blame him?
Omeluum certainly didn't.
Maybe it should have.
If it hadn't been for that passing adventurer-- and what a gift from the gods Blurg didn’t worship their intervention had been-- it could have died. Either under the strain of torture at the metaphorical hands of the Iron Throne or blown up and crushed beneath a thousand bars of pressure.
Died. Permanently. Forever. Gone.
Blurg did not often concern himself with notions of their own respective mortality. He'd accepted a long time ago that Omeluum would outlive him. Projected lifespans aside, Blurg was already older than it by a decent margin, at least as far as either of them were aware. It wouldn’t outlive him by much, granted (unless it went full-bore into the “extending its own lifespan” thing), but by enough that he'd accepted he would die first about the same time he realized he cared about Omeluum more than one might expect from your average pair of research partners.
The idea that he might not, that Omeluum might die before him-- well.
It was an impossibility. Not even worth considering.
There were always unexpected factors to consider, of course. The Underdark was a wild card unto itself. But the lodge was supposed to be safe. The city was supposed to be safe. That was the only reason they decided it would be worth going. They couldn't do their research holed up in an urban center better than they could amongst the organisms they were studying; but they were both curious about this sweep of dormant parasites, and the city was no more dangerous than the Underdark. Theoretically less. Apparently they were wrong.
The part that really had Blurg in a tizzy was that at any other time, the city probably would have been the safer option. If only all this cult business didn’t have people on high alert.
Paranoid people were harder to fool, Omeluum had explained once, as a justification for why they couldn’t take the trip to the githyanki crèche when the Society had first gotten the idea for their silly little egg experiment. The real reason was that neither of them were particularly interested in seeing that shipwreck in motion, but Omeluum hadn’t been lying.
So with an entire city full of paranoid people... it was really only a matter of time until its numerous disguises failed. Particularly when it went prying in places it shouldn’t have.
Blurg just wished they’d failed in a less spectacular fashion.
“You are staring at me again.”
Oh, was he? Whoops.
“Sorry,” Blurg muttered, very purposefully turning back to the textbook he was holding as though he’d actually retained any of the information on its pages and hadn’t just been rereading the same three lines for the past hour while his mind raced. “I’ll try to cut it out.”
“I don’t mind, I’m mostly just curious.” Still pointedly staring at the book in his lap, Blurg felt more than saw Omeluum drift up behind him, its hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “Mostly due to the novelty of such behavior. Staring isn’t a frequent habit of yours. At least, not staring at me. Your specimens are another matter.”
It was trying for a teasing tone, but he could hear-- no, feel-- the worry inlaid into its every thought.
Blurg tilted his head back, resting it against Omeluum’s midsection. It lifted its hands to cup them on either side of his face instead. “Honestly didn’t realize I’ve been doing it. You’re sure it doesn’t bother you?”
“Doubtful you could do anything that would. It’s just curiosity-- and concern. You are, like myself, a creature of routine. This sudden change is worrying for its peculiarity.”
“Well, you have my apologies for making you worry.”
“Appreciated, but unnecessary.” One tentacle moved to free Blurg’s hair from its usual up-do. He’d have been a little miffed if that wasn’t the very least of his concerns at the moment. “I would ask what prompted it, and encourage you to be open about your communication instead of trying to convey your thoughts through vigorous eye contact-- as we are both well aware it doesn’t work that way-- but I believe I’ve already surmised the cause.”
Of course it had. It was brilliant, and that aside, there was really only one major event that happened as of late which would make either of them do anything differently.
"Can we talk about it?"
Where it had been idly fidgeting-- with some loose strands of his hair, with the collar of his cloak-- all motion now ceased. Omeluum went still. Uncharacteristically so. (Talk about a creature of routine; aside from when it slept, Blurg couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Omeluum entirely idle.) "I fail to see the need. It happened. It is done. Anything that could be said about it was already voiced upon my return. There is little point in rekindling the discussion.”
"You were kidnapped."
"Yes."
"And held prisoner against your will."
"Yes."
"And studied like some kind of-- lab specimen."
"That is correct."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"Not as such,” Omeluum said, its mental tone all calculated neutrality, “but it seems to be bothering you a great deal."
Blurg grit his teeth with enough force that his jaw creaked. Seemingly without thought, Omeluum smoothed one hand against the musculature there to get him to relax.
“It does bother me,” he bit out, setting aside his artfully crafted mask of indifference and dedication to his work above all else in favor of that unrepentant emotion he tried so hard not to let get the better of him. “It bothers me because you were hurt. But it also bothers me because it doesn’t bother you. This isn’t-- good, for you, Omeluum-- I’m worried. I worry that you’re... bottling it up. Trying not to think about it in the present, to the detriment of your future self. You’ll have to deal with it eventually.”
“There is nothing to deal with,” Omeluum was all boundless patience. It should have been upset. Angry. It should have been something. “What happened was not good. I suffered, yes. And now I am not suffering anymore; I am home, and I am safe. What was no longer is. And so, we can move on.”
Blurg knew that illithid had a... somewhat complicated relationship with emotions, to put it mildly. He knew that the widespread belief that they didn’t feel any emotions at all was wholly untrue, but he also knew it wasn’t as simple as saying they felt emotions like everybody else.
When the border between psyche and physicality was so blurred, when the veil was so thin, differentiating between one’s self, one’s thoughts and feelings, and everyone else could be a monumental task at the best of times. The complexities of the average mind were difficult to parse when all one needed to be concerned with was their own mind. But illithid, whose minds stretched far beyond themselves, who-- unless they wanted to keep their minds entirely isolated-- felt each emotion around them as keenly as if it were their own... They had other concerns. An illithid on its own, with no elder brain to seclude its thoughts and no resonance to keep them regulated, could theoretically collapse under the weight of the sheer breadth of presence it was exposed to. (That was why the myconids had been such agreeable company. Aside from the safety their village offered compared to the untamed wilds of the Underdark, their minds were simple. Unified. Shared thought and emotion without all the complexities of individuality which came hand-in-hand with people.)
(It was a lot of esoteric, ephemeral ideas that were difficult to convey in words. After a great deal of struggling with putting it into Common, Omeluum had just given up and shoved the concepts fully formed into Blurg’s head. He got it, but now he was the one struggling to explain it in a way that didn’t require telepathy to be communicated.)
Emotion, for an illithid, was a full-bodied affair. Omeluum had explained it as best it could with its own experience to draw from, only managing slightly better with Blurg’s memories as an added reference. Where the average person’s feelings might be confined to their mind alone (perhaps seeping into their extremities-- furious heat in their face or their chest, sinking dread in their stomach, or any number of similar expressions), an illithid was their mind. To feel as an illithid was to be. To embody said emotion. Oftentimes, it would be simpler for them to simply not feel anything at all. And, for an illithid, such a thing was actually possible, with as much control over their own psyches as they possessed.
Which was, or at least as far as Blurg had concluded, mostly where the notion of them lacking feeling entirely came from. (That combined with the altered state of mind flayers bound to a brain, at least. They had no need for emotions, and so didn’t bother to engage with them.)
Strong the illithid were as a species, with stronger minds than any could hope to meet, they were not infallible.
And Omeluum was such a bleeding heart. For everyone but itself.
(Giving up the ring it relied upon to keep it hidden from the elder brains to someone they’d just met, acting like it was so unwilling to part with it when something as simple as a song could convince it to do so, what a fool it was. Blurg loved it so much he felt nauseous.)
Perhaps Omeluum really wasn’t bothered by what it had undergone during its brief imprisonment. Perhaps it was so focused on living in the moment, on what it felt in the present as opposed to what it had felt in the past, that it really was that easy for it to go about its life as though nothing had happened.
But Blurg knew it well. Better than he knew himself, probably. It didn’t like to focus on itself if it could help it.
So he wasn’t entirely convinced.
Omeluum would be precisely the sort to force an air of neutrality upon itself to keep Blurg from worrying. To cram every last ounce of grief into as tight a space as possible and lock it away, to stifle whatever negative emotions might try to come bubbling to the surface (for lack of a better, non-water-related turn of phrase) in order to prevent Blurg from potentially catching a glimpse of them.
They were mature humanoids who were more than capable of discussing their problems like adults. Blurg was self-aware enough to know they were also painfully flawed.
“If you really want to just forget it ever happened, I won’t push the issue anymore,” Blurg said, his voice tightly restrained. He wasn’t mad at Omeluum, and he needed to make that infinitely clear. “But I really, really think this isn’t something we should set aside.”
Silence followed, for several lengthy moments, until Omeluum bowed its head and sighed.
“Perhaps I have been unfair to you,” it said, then corrected; “to both of us, for failing to approach this with the elegance it required. It was ingracious of me to expect you to agree to drop the issue without my explaining why I am so willing to do so.”
“It’s easier to just not think about the things that are bothering you than to break them down and come to terms with them. I do get it. But it’s not healthy in a long term sense.”
“I am more than aware of that truth. And were this mere avoidance, you would be right. But it is not so simple.” It pulled away, only to move around the chair and kneel down to sit before Blurg, hands folded over its knees. He absently reached to meet it with a hand curled against what equated to its jaw. “I have not forgotten the torture that I went through, nor am I downplaying its severity. I am not ignoring the effect that it had on me; I recognize that I am more nervous, now. I possess a fear of deep water that I lacked before. I have been reluctant to leave the lodge at all, and made little progress on my research.”
Blurg had noticed these things, too, and hadn’t said anything for the plain reason that he didn’t want to force Omeluum to acknowledge its changed behavior before it was ready. (Perhaps he’d failed that mission, by inciting this conversation.)
“All of these things are true, and I anticipate there will be more ramifications yet unseen.” Its mental voice was quiet, and as it spoke, it sat up so it could set both hands on Blurg’s shoulders. “And yet, I do not fear them. Would you like me to tell you why?”
“Please.”
“Of course,” it continued, “I fear no future, for the simple fact that I will meet it with you.”
Blurg went still. Omeluum waited silently, either for his clear response or simply for him to gather his wits enough to react at all.
“Oh,” Blurg eventually said, his voice breaking on the syllable. “Well. Then. I suppose that’s that, isn’t it?”
“It can be. We can discuss it more, if you would like. I can explain how I have begun to come to terms with my experiences in my own time, that I did not want to put this burden on your shoulders.” Before he could interrupt by saying he’d be happy to carry said burden, it raised a hand to silence him. Probably already hearing the thought in his head. “Not because I thought you would be unwilling to help, but because it was important that I be able to stand on my own. For my own sake.”
Alright, fine, he’d give it that.
“I could tell you about my wider belief that it is best to focus on the present, brought about by the growing danger in our lives from so many sources. I could also elaborate further on how I resolved my trauma not by ignoring it, but by accepting it as a part of me, and striving to continue... despite or in spite of it, whichever you prefer. Or,” it concluded, “you can trust me when I say that I am alright. And we can leave it there.”
Blurg exhaled heavily, and he didn’t have to think very hard at all before he gave a nod of acceptance, leaning forward to pull Omeluum into a hug. Omeluum went along easily, folding its arms around Blurg’s back and tucking its head into the crook of his neck with a pleased rumble.
“Okay,” he said, softly. “We’ll leave it there.”
“Thank you. I promise, if there ever comes a point when I feel I need more extensive support on this matter, you will be the first to hear of it.”
“I’ll be holding you to that.” It was meant to be banter, but his attempts at a light-hearted tone were weak at best. Outright fruitless if he wanted to be particularly blunt about it.
Even if they were both okay, it was difficult to keep his heart light. The resolution of this very specific problem did not fix the wider issue that Omeluum had mentioned, of the increased danger in their lives. This place was sick. While it lacked the outright brutality of the Underdark, while it was more civilized by the average definition of the word, there was an entirely distinct breed of rot percolating in this city. One that was more dangerous for the simple fact that it was more subtle.
One could defend themself against an enemy brandishing a sword. It was much harder to tackle an underlying corruption in the very functioning of the city, or the intricacies of social interaction which made every conversation feel akin to disarming an explosive trap.
Blurg was starting to realize he hated every second of it.
“...I wish we were back in the Underdark.”
“I find myself wanting the same. Our lives were much simpler there, weren’t they?” Omeluum leaned back, patting Blurg’s cheek placatingly. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was genuinely meant to ease his griping, or whether Omeluum was just doing it to try and lift the mood. “Don’t fret. I have no doubt that our obstreperous friend is well on their way to resolving this cult debacle, and once it is safe to travel again, we will make haste in returning to our preferred topic of research.”
“Society might not be happy about it. We basically just got here.”
“Pardon my impudence, but I don’t care.”
Blurg laughed, raspy and low, and through his narrowed perspective he could see the ends of Omeluum’s tentacles curl up in its version of a smile. “Funny, that. I don’t really care either. Probably would’ve been better off not coming here at all, wouldn’t we?”
“It is not unlikely that simply remaining where we were would have been a better option, at the end of things. But, what is done is done, and it cannot be changed. We will just have to live with our choices.” It leaned forward to press its forehead against Blurg’s. While illithid did not really have notions of romance, this was-- as best as it had surmised-- the closest thing they could manage to a kiss. A relationship was just a meeting of minds. Stood to reason that expressions of love would be a more literal version of that. “I would have done nothing different.”
“Really? Nothing?” Blurg grinned, pressing into the not-really-a-kiss, “not even the part where I threw a book at you when we first met?”
Instead of rising to the jest, Omeluum remained as reliably maudlin as ever and replied; “Not even that. We are everything I could have ever asked for precisely as we are.”
Blurg sighed, attempting to force his tone into something frustrated as though it might hide the adoration in his words. “You really ought to raise your standards. Throwing books isn’t generally considered a good way to introduce yourself.” Judging by the returning affection that battered his mind, his obfuscation efforts had been mostly pointless.
“Ah, but it was a textbook on the alchemical properties of poisonous fungi. I can think of no better first impression you could have made to give me insight into your personality.” One tentacle lifted to tug at his hair. Teasing. How bold of it. “And for your information, my standards are plenty high as they are. You are simply exceptional enough to meet every single one of them without fail.”
Damn its ability to read into his mind and know the perfect thing to say to turn him into a flustered mess.
“You stop it.”
“I will do no such thing.” Its mischievous lilt faded, and it leaned back to cup the sides of Blurg’s face and hold eye contact. “You worry because you care. I understand. Were our roles reversed, I have no doubt I would be equally as troubled by your seeming lack of regard for your own well-being. I am sorry I failed to be courteous of your feelings as well as my own.”
“Oh, no, Omeluum, you don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry I was so focused on how I thought you should handle things when I should have just trusted you to know yourself.”
“It was not an unwarranted worry. I imagine that years ago, I would have struggled far more with what I had experienced. Likewise if I were trying to face this on my own. And I am not so bold as to say that our relationship means I will never be met with insurmountable grief, but my dear Blurg-- you make this grief... Surmountable. Your very presence is a balm to wounds, water to a drought, a rock in a raging sea. You are the cool of night after a harsh, endless day. By your side, I am the best possible version of me, and all that that entails.” It tilted its head. “With you, I am okay.”
It was just trying to make Blurg cry, wasn’t it?
It was doing a very good job of it, too-- as much as he did his best to choke back his sniffling, a brief brush of its mind against his own was all it needed to see how badly he was trying to keep his composure.
“Why try at all? Your earlier talk of bottling up one’s emotions and the ill consequence of that seems rather hypocritical now.” Its eyes scrunched up in a smile. “You’ll have to deal with it eventually.”
“Oh, hush.” Sentimental old squid. (As though Blurg wasn’t just as old, just as sentimental.) “I love you.”
“Yes, that is what I just said.” In some assembly of words, at least. Omeluum clasped his hand between one of its own, tugging it down to press it against its tentacles in an approximation of his style of kissing. “But it is no trouble at all for me to say it again. I love you as well, and I always will. Come hells or... Ah, high water.”
Helplessly, Blurg burst out laughing. “Really?? You’re making jokes?”
“I am attempting to assure you that I have reached a point of internal understanding with my experiences. Is it working?”
“Only sort of. Humor is a somewhat notorious coping mechanism, you know.”
“Hmm. Perhaps I will shelve that methodology, then. Allow me to be more direct.” Omeluum curled its free hand under Blurg’s chin, holding him still as it met his eyes and wove its noetic threads of cognisance through his own, drawing him forward and into its mind like a conductor on a stage.
Omeluum’s mind was, for lack of any more eloquent descriptors, a gift. Cerebral creatures as they were, illithid valued little more than the sanctity and vigor of their own minds. Be they enthralled to an elder brain or having earned their independence, from all that Blurg had seen and studied, this fact remained true. So for Omeluum to so willingly open its psyche to Blurg for something as simple as assuring him of its well-being? It was an honor to be granted this insight, this opportunity.
Illithid could lie through a mental connection, but just because it could did not mean it would. Omeluum had never lied to him, and Blurg couldn’t see even the most dramatic of experiences changing that.
Which meant the tranquil recognition of torment and the equally peaceful resolution of it which were bright and clear in his mind’s eye were the truth.
Omeluum was okay.
Sensing his contentment with what he’d seen, Omeluum let go, allowing Blurg’s consciousness to return to his own mind. (To its usual extent, that was. There was always some part of him that was a little more aware of Omeluum’s consciousness than it would have been were they anyone else, a piece of him which retained that connection by virtue of their proximity and bond, but in the simplest terms he was himself again instead of a spectator directly into Omeluum’s thoughts.)
“Thank you,” Blurg muttered, suddenly very tired, leaning forward and letting his head fall against Omeluum’s shoulder with a dull thud. “I’ll try not to let it come to that next time. On the horrible off-chance there is a next time.”
“It is not implausible,” Omeluum admitted. “But, should it come to this again, it will be no trouble at all. Your mind is profound. I will always delight in having it alongside my own.”
“Flatterer.”
“It can be flattery while still being true.”
“I suppose it all boils down to intent,” Blurg mused, perhaps a little clinically, as he considered the nonexistent rules of socializing he’d been studying with just as much veracity as his mycological work. “Flattery is usually given with the intention of coercion, or at least appeal. There’s an inherent sense of manipulation that comes with the term. You don’t flatter someone when you simply mean to offer them a genuine compliment with no ulterior motive. Then it’s just-- a compliment. So even if flattery can still be a true statement, the suggestion of scheming intent is... Sorry, this isn’t important.”
Omeluum was staring at him with metaphorical stars in its eyes. “I love you so much.”
Blurg shook his head exasperatedly, though he couldn’t help the smile on his face. “Of course you do. You are ridiculous,” he said, then after a moment’s thought, continued with: “...But I suppose I am too.”
At least they were ridiculous together.
It meant they could be alright together, too.