She should have expected the little ‘invasion’ into her head, really… well. This second invasion. The first one was done and dusted and from its wriggling quite unhappy itself about the creeping tendrils of magic attempting to sneak into Hazel’s thoughts. The young wizard took a moment to steady herself, the pain of the tadpole’s displeasure worse than Fern’s failed attempts at a distant spell.
Really, what the fuck was the hag thinking? Between the Absolute’s victims thought reading was rather more easy but Fern was not amongst them, and besides, she knew Hazel was good at mental shielding. Had developed that skill young, then nurtured it through the constant bloody mental duels between the two of them. Maybe it had been thought that the effects of the tadpoles might temporarily weaken such a thing alongside Hazel’s magical talents but, well. Bloody obviously not. If there was one thing you’d be stupid to try on anything even remotely related to the illithid when you weren’t one, it was mind reading. Hazel made an irritated emotional poke at her little passenger before stomping off to Cassius’s tent.
Despite it all, despite her certainty in herself and the firmness of the mask she’d present over the matter, Hazel felt… anxious. And she hated that fact. Hated that feeling Fern’s presence close made her heart race, a thrumming drum she detested the sound of. Who gave a fuck if it was proof of her life, when it was so loud? So quick?
At least here, in the place she slipped into with careful and unusual quiet, it was peaceful as the grave. Close to it, but not quite. More to the point it was safer, despite the fact that cocooned within was a being that her mother would have been horrified to know Hazel was soft on. That grand and proud hunter of beasts wouldn’t have called a vampire more dangerous than a hag, their family history was too marred with battles with the latter for any one of them to feel that way, but if they’d been able to consider it without bias? The answer would be very muddled. Hazel blinked slowly, adjusting to the near-dark and making out Cassius stiff as a board within his carefully arranged mass of pillows.
A very cozy kind of ‘coffin,’ wasn’t it? A cute as fuck touch that belied the danger inherent in the vampire lord, but Hazel knew full well at this point she was the person least at risk from Cassius. There was no fear in her heart at all as she carefully stepped around to the part of the tent opposite of the opening, Cassius between it and her, and then flopped onto some of the pillows.
Much better. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind. Hazel was completely certain he wouldn’t, actually, and had he been a touch awake she might even have asked for a bit of contact. Even just a hand would have helped settle her inner drum a touch faster… and she wouldn’t feel able to explain why she wanted it, needed it, but maybe he’d be able to hear what was going on, eh? Vampire senses were ever so keen. Might be nice, to be seen in full despite every measure she took for that not to happen. Loving feelings somehow muddled that need for the mask to be all that was known of her.
As she slipped back into a somewhat more peaceful sleep, Hazel vaguely wondered if her tadpole had ever let slip any of those feelings while she was fully asleep and unable to guard herself. Anxiety and fear, so apparently alien to her, worming its way across from her dreams into the minds of the others… if Cassius received them, came to know the true depths of her fear of the creeping Fern, well, that would be okay.
So long as it truly was only him who did.