Night of the Living Dead (Umbralume)

[Superdooperphailmachine]

Lucia rolled her eyes, they are already digging bodies up to make disgusting golems, giving the Drider actual legs wouldn't really be any worse. But Abigail was obviously touched in the head so she debated no further.

[Regantor]

"Please try to brush the dust off your sense of humor, priestess." Mishka made another sharp, silhouetted smile, and sort of lent against a backwards chair in a weird imitation of sitting. "How exactly would it profit Abigail or myself if I killed you in your sleep? It would not."

"As... devoted as you are to your particular studies, I'll forgive you for not realizing many of the greatest Drow in history have become Driders and have died that way." Rather than patronizing, her voice now seemed to be as harsh and sarcastic as Lucia's, perhaps in a desperate bid to relate to the stoic woman. "I am not arrogant enough to assume curing it is childsplay. I do not enjoy the feeling of it under my skin. Becoming an even less Drow monster is perhaps even preferable."

Using her crimson talon, she rather carefully plucked some glasses up and moved one infront of Lucia, pouring them both a considerable quantity of finely aged red wine. Trying to drink from her own glass nearly resulted in her toppling it, so she just shrugged and swapped hands to the more humanoid one before disgruntlely sipping away.

"...Knowing this... Can we at least agree to put it behind us for now?"

[Superdooperphailmachine]

"Pff, great Drow? How can anyone use those words together?" Lucia, ignored the wine but at least had the decency to actually respond to the creature this time.
"I am going to go to sleep, make sure your creatures stay away from me."

[Kodos]

Abigail rolled her eyes as Lucia made her way off to one of the bedrooms, smiling to Lucy and Titian after she left. "I'm sorry about that. I thank you both for your understanding. It is unfortunate that Lucia is racist, but I understand she is very good at what she does, and I put your wellbeing first." She smiled warmly at Mishkala. "I do not know what I would do without my beloved Mishka."

[Regantor]

"Great and Drow? Of course! These should be great by human standards, for sure!" Mish held up her bazongas by crossing her arms beneath them, making a tremendously prideful face. Lucia was beginning to stand up anyway, but the tact of showing them to a priestess seemed to be lost on her regardless. "Just tell me if you want anything, okay, sweetheart?..." She was still talking to Lucia, typically.

"It's alright, Abigail, darling..." Placing her elbows back on the table, the arachnid-woman then just made an upbeat little sigh and looked at the ceiling. "I like her!... She's such a bitch!"

"As for you two... I understand this place is scary and all, but please ask if you want something." The helpful expression on her face said she might actually be serious. "You're helping my darling, after all, so I can hardly let you go hungry or thirsty... Just knock on the door, okay?"

[Kodos]

The next morning, Abigail and Mishka greeted everyone in the main dining hall of her mansion. "Morning dears." Abigail smiled, waving the group over. "I made everyone breakfast because I'd feel awful sending you all off on adventure with an empty stomach! And because last time I tried letting one of the servants cook they caught fire and then the other one flipped out and it was just a very big mess and I'd rather avoid that again."

She smiled at Titian. "I trust my lab was helpful? My field's a bit different from yours, but I imagine it had everything you needed, yes?"

[Evil_Cake]

"Breakfast isn't.... bugs... is it?" The alchemist seemed genuinely concerned. "And the lab was perfect! But... erm... well I was making this sticky bomb... and it kind of blew up prematurely... all over the place..."

[Delphinus]

This time only the quiet, murmuring voice emerged from under Lucy's cowl. It seemed the scene last night had deterred her from pretending to be able-bodied.

"I hope it isn't too rich. You know how rich food makes me feel..."

Then, as though she'd forgotten herself, the other voice emerged. This time it didn't bother to traverse Lucy's vocal cords, and instead came from inside your heads.

TĘR̛R̷IB͜L̸E͠.͏ LÁS͘T͟ T͜I͞ME̵ I̶ ͟AT̵E̛ MEAŢ I ̢W̴A̢S IN ͞B̕ED F̷O̴R ̵T̨HRE͡E ͡D̵AYS A͘F̛T́ĘR̴W͘AR̴DS. ͞A̷ND ͘T̕H̴E͝N M̨Y C͟HA͏M҉BE͜RMAID̢ ͘RE̴TI̴RED̀ B̨ECAUS͘E S̢HE͘ ̧WA̛S̵ ́PR̨EGŃANT. NOT T̢HAT ̶I̵'M͟ ̵C̕O̴MPLAI̸ǸINĢ. y͡ou'͞l̷l͘ jusţ ҉h̴a͠v͜e̷ ͝to͠ ̕p̀u̸t͞ ͢up̢ ̢w͢ith ̨it́. àl͠so͏ no̴b̀o͜dy ̀c͏ares̛ about͞ y͏òur ͟d̢i͜e̵t̴ o͞f̀ i̶n҉s҉ects͏

[Regantor]

Mishkala was already seated with a backwards chair propping up her pelvis, busy gorging into a pile of gammon, fried eggs and bacon sizable enough to kill an average person. It certainly didn't look like bugs, but at the rate the intense arachnid woman was going at it, joining in could still be considered hazardous for your health.

The voice that penetrated each of their minds... Now, that did get her attention. So much so that her breakfast almost went down the wrong way. Coughing heavily, she just gave Lucy and irate look and again pondered on what exact kind of freak the woman was.

"...Look, are you possessed or something? Or turning into a Lich?" Yeah, she went ahead and said it, alrough her expression was more one of curiosity or perhaps sadistic interest rather than fear now. Using her left hand, she molded a tiny little humanoid shape made of blue light, then puppeteered it on a little dance around the table top. "Forgive my forwardness, but the worst kind of monsters are the ones you cannot see. The ones that manipulate your mind from the shadows..." A snap of the fingers, and the little man dissipated.

A small laugh, then she lent on her elbow and shot Lucy a coy but shady grin. "...Now, I've been perfectly honest with you, haven't I sweetness? We can all trust each other, can't we?"

[Delphinus]

N͘OT A̧ LIC͢H. ͢I ͜B́ARELY͢ KNOW͡ ŢH̶E̢ ̴FU͢ND҉AME͟ŃT̡ALS͢ O̡F́ ͠SP͢EL͘L͞WEA͢VIN͡G̀.

Í'll͘ t͘a̛lk l͘i̧k̨e͞ ̢t͞h͡is͘ ̸to̵ ýo͘u͟.͏ It͠'s ̛e̶asi̸e̶ŗ, a͢n̵d ̢s̷i̸n̕c̡e you̕ ķno̶w̴ I do̴n͝'͟t̡ ̴n͢ee͟d t̕o͝ ca͜re̡.͡ I ̛d̢oņ'̀t k͟n͘o̴w ͡wh̶a̴t̀ Į a̢m. N̡obody s͠ee͜ms t͡o̸ know ҉wh͏a̕t ҉I a͢m̀.͠ B͢l̴asp͜he҉mou͝s,̕ t̶ḩat'͡s w͝h̡ąt I̶ am. An͝ a̡b҉e̸rr͏ati̷o͝ń. Doze͟n̨s̢ o̧f b͏ooks ̴c̛a̵n͠'t tȩll ́mȩ what I a̢m̧. N̡o̷r ca̧n ̶d̛octo̷r̴s͞, wiz̸a̵rd̴s͞, ҉p̡r̷i̛es̸t̛s̢ -̡ ҉ņo̶t҉ ̕e̕v̷e̵n ͡t̷he̸ ͜Sa̛i̕ńt́ k͝now̛s ̷wha͜t͘ ̕I ͡a̵m.̛ A̕ di̧sg͞r͜ac̶e̕ ̢t̴o ̡m͡y̧ ҉fam̴i̶ly҉ ̡a̕n̶d ́r͟el҉i͢g̸i̶o̴n̡,͘ th҉at's ͏w͢hat I͢ am.́ A ̷c͡r̢i̴p͜pled ͘f͡re̴a҉k̵,͟ t҉hat's ̡what I am͏. Un͏hol̴y ̀an͟d͡ ̴blas͡p̕hemo̕u̶s͟.͢ ̕L̛ik͝e̛ y͝o͝u. ͜Be gl͢ád̡ I d͞e̸ìgn͟ed͢ ̢t̨o te͝l̶l y͜ơu.́