A force slows you suddenly after falling for so long from the crashing Nautiloid. Though the feeling of an invisible force holding you and stopping you so jarringly is more welcoming than the rapidly approaching shores, it is not so gentle that you could avoid losing consciousness. You awake who-knows-how-long later with no idea HOW you arrived there except for the unhelpful, direct answer of a fall from a crashing ship; the problem being that you have no memory boarding. All manner of Mind Flayer shenanigans could have lead to memory loss, but then how are you aware of things such as this an not others?
Your mind is immediately a jumbled mess of errant thoughts and strange feelings belonging to no source that you recognize. WHAT is a simple question. What you are defines so little that it is almost not worth mentioning, but a slender body with no extra appendages, pointed ears and a height somewhere around six feet is unmistakably that of an elf and the ashy skin of your hands states you are a Drow. The curve from your waist to your hips, and the weight and protrusion of your chest suggests you are a woman by sight, but an internal feeling accompanying that expression quickly confirms that identity through and through. A sensation of power is connected to your mind. It flows through your veins and you know it so easily to be 'sorcery' despite not knowing anything else. You are a Sorcerer. In simple terms it means that you have an ancestry that granted you power, but from what side of your family or in what manner you have no clue. It is strange to know so much about what you are without having any clues as to the details surrounding your identity. Strange and... Comical.
"Hah." Intonation. A voice that follows and fits the identity by it's soft timber and high pitch. Though 'what' is answered so easily, WHO is the question to answer those strange thoughts and emotions running wild within you. A blush and a rush of excitement as a stern green woman pointed a sword at you, rather than fear or disdain. An pleasure at being restrained within the pod and tortured with a creature placed in your head, as well as an admiration for your powerful torturer. Your breath is still taken while your heart skips at the recent memory. If that captor were still alive how you wish to feel it's absolute power over you. You feel embarrassed immediately at those thoughts of self-destruction and brush them aside. 'Who' is a question that will not be answered so easily, however something that could be a name, but seems more akin to a title emerges. You are 'The Submissive Urge'.
A deep blush washes over your pale cheeks. "Wait... That can't be right." How could you think something so strange and obscene about yourself? As if it was written into your soul, it is there taunting you, because even this uncontrollable urge is something that arouses you to no end as you imagine what manner of mischievous being placed this humiliating curse on you. If they were watching you struggle in this moment how satisfied would they feel at your discomfort?
You shake your head vigorously because the immediately important question of WHERE arises in your mind with WHY and WHEN as an impossible to answer hangers-on. You are on a beach surrounded by corpses. Thralls like... You? Were you one of them? Is that why your mind no longer feels like your own? It would almost serve to explain why you are the way you are but you told yourself you were leaving those thoughts aside for now. Thralls scattered the beach except for one unique enough-looking figure that drew your attention immediately. You are slightly terrified to approach this dark-haired beauty for quite a good reason, but she is the only thing in sight that seems to still be breathing. As you look her over you still see in her hand a peculiar device, like a toy or a puzzle. It tempts you with its appearance, but your hands move to the woman's shoulders instead as you shake her awake.
She gradually opens her eyes and rubs her head wearily. A half-elf woman in chain with peculiar imagery over her armor. Her dark hair is bound into a long braid and her pretty features twit into a stern and harsh appraisal of you.
"You! You were with that Gith. You left me calling out for help in that pod. You didn't even try to help." The way she says Gith is similar to the way one talks about a bug in the room, disgusted and hesitant to even allow it space to live.
You lower your head. "She told me not to so I felt like I had to."
"Oh." She lifts her chin and asks guardedly.
"You're her slave then?"
"Not... To my knowledge."
She looks at you strangely. Her tone becomes sarcastic. "So you must just do everything that strange women ask you to do, then."
You scratch your chin, turning to avoid her gaze. "I think so, too."
She is so stunned by such an oddly genuine answer that she raises both brows and can not speak for a few seconds before she finally says.
"I don't forgive you, but-" She pans her gaze over the beach and the crashed ship.
"It seems you and I are the only ones alive so we are stuck with each-other. I am Shadowheart."
"I am The Submissive Urge." You say without thinking, as if egged on by some unseen authority.
"O-oh god! I mean-"
"You should keep that to yourself." She angled away from you and began exploring the beach ahead. You covered your face in your hands for a minute, unable to contain regret at having said something so strange to the woman you just met. You can tell that this odd scenario will become an anxiety that decorates your thoughts for many sleepless nights to come as it plays over and over again before you're allowed to sleep.
