Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

[ENTRY SIXTY-ONE]

In some poetic stroke of irony, the world is made up from predictable cycles, with more than its share of unpredictable results… Oddest of all though, is how the world can change right before your eyes, and the only way you notice is to look on the distant past, comparing it with the present and finding these dramatic differences. It is utterly mystifying how these dramatic differences go unnoticed until one takes the time to find them. I, for all my self made enigmas and carefully crafted masks… am nothing when set next to the grandest of all enigmas. A mere amateur for all my skill, against the back drop of a world and life that has once again changed me so subtly that I had no idea just how much I had changed. The Multiverse dances, and I struggle to keep step… And it is that ever present struggle that makes these less than fluid movements a beautiful dance worthy of any fine production. For all its beauty, it hides a dark truth: We all waltz with death, and it is only a matter of time before the music stops…

But for now, the music is a beautiful conjunction of the varied voices and instruments of the lives that add to the cacophony of sound. At times… it is dark, full of foreboding and forwarning… others… it is light and full of joyous melodies.

The last month has had pleasant moments despite the dark overtones. War looms, and it grows ever closer as the days march on. The political figureheads bumbling about, scrambling to try to hide the fact that they have no clue what is really amiss in this seemingly ordinary set of circumstances. Many whisper of some cult behind it all, but none are willing to work together long enough to truly figure out what is really afoot. Who am I to speak such wisdom? I am no one… but I have watched the weavings of lies long enough to catch the tale-tell signs. If only there was enough genuine proof to consolidate the hearts and minds of the masses? Perhaps this war would be avoided altogether… Though with the armies of the Dukes glaring across the borderlines to the Amnian armies… it seems we may not be so lucky.

This brings me to another startling realization… That I have no intention of running. I can blame this wholly on the newfound concept of genuine friendship in more than just your heart, Seraphim. I find myself calling another Sis, and holding her wellbeing as dear to me as I did yours… A fact that I hope doesn’t get her killed. Not just her, but so many others. So many I can call friend, and would be unwilling to lose or give up.

There is the constant semi-sincere push for me to find my prince charming, now more than ever with love running rampant on the Coast like some sort of apocalyptic plague. It is an amusing diversion. I am, however, content to wait on such happy endings until I know the evil queen, who in this case is a king… is dead. Anders, either by design or lack of, has put the quest for happy ever after on hold by disappearing. It is both entirely welcome, and utterly unsettling. Not that I have put much thought into it myself… but the others surely have… But there are several possible Prince Charmings… if only Anders were dead.

And that if, is much like the ‘if they only knew who was really behind all this war nonsense’ if. Fortunately there is a host of amusements to keep me busy. The usual terrorizing of the menfolk, namely one adorable blushing fellow in particular, never loses its value. Though I still need to thank him properly for the dagger. I hadn’t felt right using the other after Anders’ little gift. The dagger Cutie gave me serves as a much nicer replacement. It is truly a balanced piece of art as much a weapon. A girl likes shiny things indeed… but if he spent a fortune for my sake… I might have to do something drastic… and laugh when he blushes so much his ears set fire.

Then of course there is the banter on my romantic attachment or lack there of to a certain ‘paladin’… Far fetched and unrealistic as it may be, it is amusing. I’ve had no cause to run screaming from the Coast just yet, as the -gentleman- in question has made no indication that he shares the opinions of our friends when it comes to romance. No other worthwhile sorts have presented themselves, so I consider myself safe from the romantic epidemic.

But, this too leads to another surprising realization. When he expressed such concern to the fate of the Gate and those in it… I felt the need to offer some bit of optimism… and the sincere worry that something would befall this place that has somehow become… home. That is perhaps the most alarming. To think of anyplace as home is to root in and intend to stay… which opens the door for a host of other horrifying possibilities.

Maybe it is the lack of proper sleep. I’ve yet to seek out the Dancer again for fear that my last blunder would come back to haunt me. I am still kicking myself for that catastrophic set of missteps. It is one thing to destroy a dance that you barely know, another entirely to muck up one you have known by heart as surely as you composed it yourself… Again I blame the lack of sleep. A lack of sleep caused by inescapable nightmares of drowning in some bottomless void. If I ever cross that necromancer again… I’ll see to it that I am not the one made a puppet of then.

Of course, it also could be this curse. Deva Queen seems to be getting worse… her Shadow is not even seen lately, which can’t bode well for his state. I’ve become addicted to some concoctions made by a wizard in Beregost that stave off fatigue and put the need for sleep further from me. I’ve seen more sunrises than is healthy in my state… but I can’t escape the dread that trickles down my spine at the thought of sleep. If it isn’t drowning… its Anders or whatever demon my subconscious seeks to torment me with at the time… none of which I look forward to.

It is this weakness and the death of so many lately that have reminded this seemingly immortal phoenix of her more literal mortality. This was brought to startling clarity when I found myself sitting at Dean’s Funeral. Sure, the two of us never got along well. I will admit to enjoying our spats strictly on the value of amusement… and that I might miss the barbed banter… He was after all, an arse. An arse that had a surprising showing… I had promised to behave, thus my previous antics of convincing the world of my heartbreak had to be set aside.

This allowed me to observe. In this observation, I came to a conclusion… Rock could even respect this man, despite the fact that he was one of the biggest and most self-righteous jerks I had ever known… I doubted the Interviewer’s tears as genuine as they were to appear… after all, I’ve seen her change dance partners as though she were in the middle of a noble’s galla as he sought to give his daughters away. Even then… I am sure some part of her truly registered the loss. The others there, for the most part were profoundly respectful of this man’s passing.

There were a couple who irritated me though. After all, I was having to behave and they were not… It opened the door for something I have yet to label. A sort of priest seems to take great amusement in telling me how often Dean says hello from his perch in death… The other one, I have decided is a pile of rot and cannot stand. This particular event after the funeral services nearly came to blows… I say nearly, because for the Dancing Knight’s sake… I was behaving…

Another surprise came from that moment as Monochrome’s bitter shadow and I have developed some sort of truce… which is slowly forming into a more iron clad treaty. So long as she doesn’t go insane and prove to be more of a problem… For now, no ills have come from the blossoming… friendship? If one can call it that yet?

Speaking of friendships, I find myself oddly protective of Deva Queen’s knights… and of Rock’s Ilmatari… The way he protects the healers, one would think he was given an order from his god or something… which has lead to a situation that is still not quite fully resolved to my knowledge. Alexander and Louise… well it all turned into quite a mess. I’m not sure if he will get his head out of his arse and stop pouting… but I genuinely hope so. As for Louise… it is difficult to say, she is always so quiet. I feel bad for encouraging her to seek a path that turned out fruitless, even if I did only play a small part in the whole thing. I have no doubt though, that she is not nearly so fragile as she appears and that she will mend.

I’ve seen no trace of the idiot who thought to cross the Fey Child… maybe he got himself killed? Yet another event that lead to a surprising acquaintance. The Lizard is not an enemy that I can tell, and he speaks of valuing me as a friend. I suppose time will tell if it is genuine or just another of the Mistshadow’s fancies. Though if I am given a choice in the matter, I would much prefer him as a friend than an enemy. In the very least… not an enemy, if nothing else.

Add to this Lightning and the others… and well, Seraphim… you can see from your place between the moonbeams that I am knee deep in mystery, in over my head… heart first… and struggling to balance the thing this phoenix has become, with what she needs to be to survive. I will survive, of that I am sure. So long as I can control the curiosity that has been getting the best of me, to my own demise… and fortune. Funny how venom and anger have been replaced by wit. Once malicious past times have turned to mischief… A heart once so steeped in darkness and anger is finally discovering the candle flicker that didn’t die when you did, Seraphim… The ember of hope that keeps the flame burning, ever molding who I am and creating something so grand, it surpasses even my own imagination.
~~

[ENTRY SIXTY-TWO]

Death. It is everywhere, the end of everything… and yet… it isn’t. It is nowhere, it is nothing… It certainly is not the end I once thought it was. Or perhaps this thing we have always perceived as death… is not. Or is it simply not what it seems like so many other things? A grandiose illusion that is as fleeting and intangible as the very breath that fills my lungs. There, but not… And like that breath, death does serve a purpose… It is the turning of the proverbial page. The conclusion of some chapter in this endless narrative beneath the stars. Now… amid all this… death… I find consolation. This is but the turning of the page… and hardly the end of the tale.

I mourned your death, Seraphim… for so long… So long that the grief turned to fury… smoldering embers to a raging inferno, and it consumed me. I died then. I died the moment the only solace I had ever known fell away. The water that you were… evaporated away, leaving in its wake little more than the blood pooled at their feet… The embers that your comfort had kept cool for years… burned.

I died again in those flames, I became something more. No longer the meek child that lived in fear and dreamt of death… An unquenchable fire that turned all it touched to ash… Left more death in its wake… And yet, those deaths were not final… Because every time I close my eyes, I see them. I watch the life drain from Cale’s eyes… I see the flames at my back reflected in them and knew then that I was damned to burn, burn as mother and the others did… and I imagine their deaths… I see them… and I feel nothing… because that part of me died then.

I found my path out of Waterdeep… and carried with me the embers from each flame within, fueling the endless fires that awaited me… and the ones that threatened to swallow me whole… Every day since the flames have slowly burned away everything else. Each death which was meant to be so final… were nothing more than turning pages, and from the ashes came something new each time… Something that was once dead, but now… in the dying flames… lived.

In what now lived, was some part of you… the balance to the inferno. The promise that kept you alive in both memory and spirit. Just as life fanned the flames… you drew them down and allowed the phoenix to rise from the blackened and grayed depths of a soul that was… dead. Your memory gave it life, in a small promise… that it would forever be a turning page. I would be a fool to think that I would master death… but I had nothing to fear from it, because it promised me a reunion with you, dear sister.

I died, until the part of me that sought death also died… The part of me that hated all that lived had died at long last… I discovered a solace within myself that I didn’t know existed, I let the flames die. I let them die, and I lived. Death is but the turning of a page, the pause that grants the Phoenix life…

Life became the thing which fueled the fires I would rise from. I found death, and even undeath… and no matter how hard Death might try… the Phoenix rises. A blaze that burns as eternally as a promise made in blood. Unshakable and unstoppable… Even though it was perhaps my first actual death… I mean I’ve fallen before… cut it close… but I have a promise to keep.

So what part of me dies when that promise is no more? Shall I forever promise eternity to stave off death? Do I accept the turn of the page and take my place amid the starlight and moonbeams? Perhaps some day. For now there is a promise to keep. Truthfully, several. Seems all I have been doing is making promises since I left Waterdeep… Suppose the part of me who didn’t want to tie myself to a promise other than yours has long since died.

Death, this pause, this turn of the page… figurative… is but a poet’s fancy in light of War. War and intrigues have shaken The Coast to its very foundations… Here there has been real death… for real people… And I can’t help but wonder if, like you… they will live through the memories of those who loved them? Are you happy, sis? As a shadow of what you were? A sliver of silvered light and tears that drifts on the night, in and out of existence on the wings of dreams and shadows? When you dance beneath the stars, between the moonbeams… are you happy? When you look down, do you like what you see? Will they?

In a fire that even terrified me… the whole Coast has burned… be it war or intrigue or Dragons… and as the embers cool, and we struggle to rise… somewhere, there is at least one Goddess who looks down on us and laughs at our clumsy dancing. Each confined to our own narrow views, we fail to see what the gods see, much less what those whose chapters have long since closed see as they continue to read the Endless Narrative…

Beregost is in pieces. We knew to expect all Nine of the Hells to break loose… that the very order of the world would fall away into the Abyss… and for all our worst nightmares… it was nothing for what was to come… Gullykin, the Hin village so adored for how quaint and peaceful… one would think that folk such as those of the village would remain untouched by this… they had surely done no harm… But Death is impartial. It cares not who deserves it… only that each chapter must end. It cares little for happy ever after either… Which is likely why Death had no qualms about releasing the five headed harbinger after we had done what we could to honor his work with our petty war and half formed paranoias and suspicions.

As impartial as an unquenchable flame… Death has touched everything… From reaches north of the Gate to reaches as far south as Nashkell and further… I wondered if those few we were able to waltz away from War’s macabre dance… even mattered in the light of all who had danced until their earthen-bound feet could carry them no further. Some will be touted as heroes… to live out their days in glory, forever loved as long as they are remembered…

Others… others will do the right things for the right reasons and be branded traitors, murderers, thieves… and worse… They will walk in infamy, hated. All the love they might have garnered they will now forever covet in secret, Until Death is kind to them and offers them escape… Or until the fires that consume them and the world they live in cool, and allow them to rise again.

The flames of War have all but died now… their chapter closed… the embers glow ever fainter, and soon, places like Gullykin and Beregost will rise from the ashes, beautiful phoenixes full of life… It will take time. Especially since places like Gullykin and Beregost lack rich benefactors. Sort of like me now… I know my chocolate and coin were well spent to help those I could… though I miss them, I can’t really describe the feeling of… solace when I look to the faces of those whose lives I have touched. Their chapters are not closed, even if I am now a poor poet.

I’ll talk to the others. At first the idea of a College seemed little more than fleeting fancy… but now, I need coin. I’ll die in a rather permanent fashion before I will stoop to being a performing monkey on some over glorified stage… I’m sure we can drum up the support for such a thing. It will take time… and in the mean time I might have to find some Mercenary work or ply a few poems for coin… but I think it would work, and I truly believe that this place needs to see what true art really is. Not just pea-cockery on gilded platforms where everyone hides behind one mockery of a mask or another… A farce of a masquerade ball… where the dancers are all stiff and lifeless, and the musicians are all off key… Figuratively perhaps… but in each metaphor and behind each lie… is a modicum of truth.

I had thought to wear your gown to the galla coming up soon. I’ve not got more than a handful of coppers to my name… I think they could be better spent… In Beregost perhaps? I am certain the spoiled twits of Baldur’s Gate’s elite will spare no expense to rebuild their frilly homes. If the Dukes wish to cater to the spoiled dolts that line their pockets in gold won from blood and suffering… let them. They already line their coffers with Thayan blood money. Rock is right… the Dukes may be good people, though a bit misguided and blinded by all those shiny coins… but I think it would be a lie worthy of the Mistshadow to say that the rest of the Baulduran elite shared the same good standing.

Let them have their fancy Gala… I’ll gladly play in the streets of Beregost again! I’ll play for the widows and the orphans, for the wives and daughters who lost loves to Amnian greed… I’ll play for the souls who dance in silence… Whose chapters have closed and whose homes are now amid stars and secrets… I would be willing to bet that Lightning would play too. Maybe we could even invite the Unicorns again… It would be beautiful, and in those shattered streets… There should be dancing. Or at least proper music to mend the walls by.
~~

[There is an addition scribbled at the bottom of the page]

On Second thought... A girl does like shiny things... SO I will do both. I have a date... and from the sounds of it a new dress!! Now I just need some chocolate. I can play in the streets still, help them out too. It will be divine! Best of both worlds. It's perfect!

[ENTRY SIXTY-THREE]

I’m still undecided… as to whether or not I should have made an appearance at the Dukes grand affair. Though as I mull the events over, I think it was a good idea to go, last minute though it was. In the least, Rock has fine taste in gowns… and color. There were so many lovely gowns there, Seraphim… so many brightly colored birds in a whirl of color and contrast… brightly colored feathers displayed as the tinkle of goblets and coins accented the sound of laughter and socialite conversation.

There were of course the expected formalities, the prim and proper among those who cling to procedure and order as though it will be what saves them in the end, That is not to say that the Coast’s adventuring Elite were not there to push their own agendas. The event was to benefit the city so many of us call home… but that does not stop the profiteering among us from trying to see that they benefit from some side arrangement.

As was my way, much to Lightning’s dismay, I sat and waited… holding my own ulterior motives in silence. After seeing how some of the others were being received… I opted to hold the matter for a more private moment. Such as when I am summoned by Her Grace, the lady Duke of the Gate, Liia Jannath. I had thought to avoid her shrewed eye… and I must applaud her ability to draw my face out from the crowd. I would have been spinning poetry all night had she not become distracted by the events at hand… No doubt she will still expect a poem, and scold that it has been so long since my last appearance at Court. Bored nobility with coin… a poet’s dream, and the kind of notoriety I would be a fool to turn away. Still… it was nice not to have to put myself on display.

Still terrified that Anders will suddenly jump from some gilded corner and attempt to draw me away from the fairy tale I am working so hard at unraveling. He wouldn’t be the one I’d need to worry over tonight… but I’ll get to that, Seraphim. First, my sisters. I’m glad you take no offense to the pair that has joined your hallowed ranks. Deva Queen looked every bit the part. Playing the part both of a well wisher and political figure, she maneuvered it gracefully. Lightning… Gods. The Coast would be in serious trouble if she ever set her sights on the eligible bachelors. Her outfit was her… down to the very last stitch, I’d no idea just how much she hides herself until I saw her all dressed up… Not a man on the Coast stands a chance… not if she ever decides to settle in. And of course she had an absolutely perfect hat.

I can stand with the pair of them and I feel nearly invincible. Even Anders couldn’t shake me then. Though most of the Coast might resign themselves to trouble when we set our heads to mischief. Tonight though… our goal was revelry. Rock, mindful of the formalities, set us to getting our hosts on the dance floor. With Lightning’s skill at music… that wasn’t too difficult. She found the band, and lead them in a grand melody. I was tasked with getting Her Grace to pair with Duke Belt for the opening dance. I had to do little more than get her attention before His Grace’s unmistakable voice rang through the hall. She takes his … mannerisms in stride. This was no different. She made her way to the dance floor with a chuckle and faint roll of her eyes, and I made my way to Lightning and the rest of the musicians.

I’ve never heard another play as Lightning can… ever. Not since you died, sis. No music has ever sounded so… perfect. Add this to the talents and notes of what may well have been all of the Coast’s musicians… and … Even the Gods danced! My part as a performer came to an end when His Grace made a Ducal decree that his guests dance… The music began its shift as I put your violin away, and the true revelry began. The third song was a lively waltz. No surprise when Rock drew me into a grand waltz to match the music. Even Acorn was having a good time.

We had barely closed the song, lords bowing to ladies, when I heard a shout Rock’s shoulder. To my horror, I looked around him to see a pair of guardsmen following an elf, who was barreling at Deva Queen, blade drawn. If I am not mistaken… The same one who asked her to dance before. Wasn’t much time to react. I simply pointed and shouted her name… Rock crossed the floor so quick I nearly missed it. I followed, trying to get to her. Needless to say, she was very surprised anyone would attempt to attack anyone here, much less her. I think we all were. I was nearly there when some twit, apparently working with the first suicidal elf, threw an acidic concoction at Her Grace.

The guards made short work of the attacker, almost before Deva Queen could tear her dagger from her garters. Duke Belt was having a grand go at the excitement. I believe the words he used were: “Call that pathetic effort an assassination attempt? I've seen more wit at the bottom of a privy.”

Have I mentioned that I like Belt? Meanwhile, the Duke who always tips my performances so well… Silvershield, and Rock were trying to usher Jannath to safety and tend her wounds… Pity… her dress was the most lovely shade of blue… and now it was ruined. The one Duke I had yet to meet came roaring out of his corner of the room, furious that the event had been interrupted… and livid that one of his guests had been attacked… not to mention a well known political figure… oh the mess that made. Politics and intrigues abound. As for the suicidal elf… the motivations of his actions may forever be a mystery. Though there are several likely possibilities I am sure.

By the time I had stitched up the damage in our gowns… Never go to a Ball without a needle and thread. Ever. Just like you said… I had plenty. Least this time it wasn’t some rotter noble who couldn’t wait to get past the dress that was an issue. It will cost a fortune to fix my own gown… I’m going to be a pauper’s poet for the rest of my natural life… I swear it… but anyway… by the time I had finished, they were apologizing to Deva Queen, trying to identify the would be assassin, and usher the guests more weak of stomach out the door.

I was just irritated such a fine event was brought to a screaming halt. Most folks didn’t want to stick around outside… too much wine, too much Coastal rain, too much excitement… you know how those Noble Sensibilities are… As I said… it wasn’t Anders I needed to worry about… I was blissfully safe for a change. Though more than a little pissed the Nines off that someone tried to kill my sister without my permission and during a brilliant dance. In fact, by the time everyone who didn’t run the city had left the Ducal Palace, I had worked myself into a fine mood. I didn’t even notice the rain until Rock draped his cloak on my shoulders.

That should have been a warning there… and then when Lightning started up another waltz, I should have raised a brow. Something tells me that I missed a lot leading up to that crucial moment when I should have fled far far away… but, silly little Maeve… Always misses the forest for the trees. This was no different.

Hard to stay mad when a glorious waltz is drifting between a soft drizzle in the deep of the night… somewhere overhead, I imagine that behind their cloud cloak… the stars danced. I even imagined I saw your smiling face just as Rock’s arm took the long route to my hand, and just before I was twirled onto the dance floor… I know I saw you laughing.

I’ve never seen him dance like that… and that should have been yet another warning of what was unfolding in the mists of a dying winter’s night. I was too busy enjoying the dance to even hear the warning bells in my own mind. They were drown out by brilliant music, swirls of color and a stillness of time that only a poet can appreciate. It was as though all the world had sought to make up for the mess inside, by offering amends in the form of seeming perfection.

My comment after the first dip that he was having far too much fun amusing me was answered with a sly Maybe. The dance… It could have lasted forever, and you would not have ever heard me complain.

“Then again, when a master plays a waltz… a courtier or a squire … must dance.”

“And a lovely waltz it is.”

My reply came between steps and turns… and his answer came once I had been spun out and back.

“One of those ‘Decent men don’t have a choice’ matters.”

“A grand -mistress- of music at that.”

Once again the conversation was carried out as we whirled and twirled about the Palace courtyard. Kal was even dancing with the Ilmatari, and it was difficult in fact, to find one who wasn’t dancing, or lending to the music. The rain that we all seemed to twirl through slowly lending contrast in dark, artful splatters across the fine materials and colors.

I found myself wondering when this man, who all the Coast saw as quick tempered and brash… had learned to dance with such skill. It truly was the grandest of things. I wonder if any who had ever been on the wrong side of battle lines from him… had ever really seen this side of him. Or the side he shows to all those children? For all I know, and think I know… he’s full of surprises.

The biggest of which would come as the waltz was drawn to a close, and the music drawn down into something more intimate. Between the wine and the excitement, and now the dance… I was plenty dizzy enough when I found myself falling gracefully into one last, low dip. It was that moment, that seemed to freeze. Almost as though I kept falling, and the ground had disappeared from underneath me. It took until I was upright again to realize just what he had murmured against my ear.

“I love you.”

Somewhere in the eternity that followed the rain had begun to fall more heavily, and his cloak was back around my shoulders. The music had stopped, though notes of it seemed to echo from far away. Amid the taunting strains of some distant music were the last few days. Yesterday with the children at his ‘home’… the moment when he nonchalantly mentioned a change in ‘evening activities’ and a few dozen small moments in the last several months that should have prepared me for this moment that now stretched infinitely… Also to fill this moment was the good-natured teasing of those I consider nearest and dearest friends.

The very real instinct to flee for my life and everything in it gripped me, nearly as strongly as the surprise and crashed heavily against the fact that my own pride in appearances wouldn’t allow me to run screaming from the City as though Anders, and all the demons of my past… living or otherwise were drawing in on me. Instead I stood disturbingly still, as though some small instinctual part of me thought that if I were still enough, the danger, be it real or perceived would pass… And he stood there, calm as the rain fell silently around us. In fact… I couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was as if all sound had fled the roaring in my ears.

I tried desperately to seek some of that invincible back up… only to find Lightning wrapped in the music and festivities well behind me, and Deva Queen clear across the Courtyard. Add to that what seemed a thousand wondering faces between myself and anything resembling an exit. With the realization that I had no proper exit… came the realization that I should have said something ages ago. He still stood there, calm as a still lake. I felt the blood that had been depriving my brain of the ability to think now gathering in pools on my cheeks. He had followed my gaze to my sisters and motioned.

“Take a moment if you’d like.”

Try though I might… I couldn’t move. Not toward them or away or anywhere. I glanced at him and stammered like a fool instead… because that always makes these awkward moments better!

“Just … surprised… is all…”

Surprised that the entire Coast had been rooting for this for at least six months now. Surprised that despite my best insistences that it would not… it was… After all, I’ve only lost twice… third time’s a charm. I would never live this down. Damn my pride! I couldn’t run… or didn’t want to?

Damn the water… Damn the wine… Damn pride… I damned a lot of things in that moment as I slowly realized this was the only corner I’d ever been in that I hadn’t clawed my way out of yet. Slowly my ability to think was less fuzzy, but a graceful solution or escape was no clearer. It was as though my mind had been wrapped in gauze. Fool girl. I, and I alone could have blundered into this… of all things… Some point I had gone from walking along the banks of the Cursed Water… to getting shoved in… or maybe I jumped… hard to say by now. But then? I was drowning. It seemed like I was hearing his whisper from beneath the water… it took an age for the sound to reach me, and I could do little more than stand there like a dumbstruck child.

“It isn't so hard to accept. . once you let go.”

Ironic that they say just that about drowning… once you make peace with the turbulent river… she will carry you away. The cold embrace shields you from feeling… the rhythm of the waters lull you to gentle eternal sleep… the very moment you let go. However, my river was much more figurative… and no less merciful if I’d simply allow things to take their course. The trouble is… I’ve always liked making my own way, and usually against the current.

Besides… this was surely my mind’s way of playing a joke. I had to be dreaming… I already knew there were no happy endings. There aren’t prince charmings or knights in shining armor or lovely balls in beautiful castles where the music is played by angels and the dancers are all full of joy. Yet there I stood… the gentle rain and cool night air became very real sensations. They drew me out of the fog…

The Lion of Candlekeep sought to rescue the mouse… though she had drawn no thorn from his paw… I doubt he even knew the gift he had granted. As the fog lifted, the world settled into a gentle rhythm of rain and pleasantries. I saw you smiling… the break in the clouds and the moonlight that fell through them as though it had been held at bay by a dam across a river… You knew it… I knew it… I drew a deep breath, and accepted my defeat, though not with the measure of grace I had hoped. He turned back to me as the Lion departed.

“Still considering flight?”

“Briefly... maybe... I don't think so? No. Not exactly... flight.”

“Yes well, the same where it concerns me. However I've had time to adjust.”

I almost laughed at the thought of him running from anything… Then I wondered what he had adjusted to. My mind ran several circles… that were more like lopsided figure eights… I can’t say whether I did laugh or if that was just the laughter of others… A dancer of words, and I couldn’t put enough of them together to act as a serviceable weapon… much less anything sensible.

“I'm not an expert on the subject... I'm really not. You -do- know that right?”

“Mhmm.”

He nodded and I managed a half grin.

“Just as long as you are aware... I think… Me too.”

I was half afraid to say much more… terrified that whatever was going on would be some grand illusion that the Mistshadow had spun.

“Don't worry about it then, it'll work out.”

So much of me was afraid to admit that I hoped he was right that I just offered a smile as a sort of peace offering for not being the fawning princess they write into those fairy tales… I might not have been a princess… but I was suddenly aware of just how far I had gone from the Queen of Waterdeep’s Gutters… to a Phoenix, bright and full of fire.

“Warn a girl next time.”

“-How- would I do that?”

He chuckled down at me and wrapped his arm back around my waist.

“And I -did- warn you. . .”

I looked up at him and arched a brow.

"If your going to hang about me. . . .if your going to spend time with me. . ."

He spoke slowly and with a grin, an attempt to give my mind time to gather all the pieces and put them back in order. Trouble was I was stuck in the same patterns of thought.

“... wow... and I thought I was skilled at being subtle... talk about missing forests for trees.”

And smacking into the biggest oak face first.

“All in the inflection.”

“So... You realize we have a slew of I-told-you-sos coming ... right?”

Gods above and the Hells below… I would NEVER live this one down… not ever. This wasn’t just playing at a game where I could just walk away when I had my fun… I was in over my head, no question about that… and in all sorts of trouble if I didn’t remember how to at least tread water. Damn the Water… I think…

“I -never- made the claims you did. . .so the "Told you Sos" will be yours. . .”

He was grinning like the proverbial cat who had caught a prize mouse…. Which set my mind wondering.

“Wait… Just how much is in the inflection?”

His answer was no comfort… or discomfort. I had yet to decide just how bad this was or was not.

“-All- in the inflection. . .”

I was one very caught, very doomed mouse… And I was still trying to figure out if I minded. As the guests began to go their separate ways some time later, I offered to see Deva Queen Safely home… in some measure of mercy I’d not known many to possess, Rock said he had things to tend… which left me to all my sisters, beneath the clearing sky. It was a long quiet walk, save for your songs running through my mind. Deva Queen had a lot on her mind, getting attacked and all. Lightning seemed to be concentrating on breathing and walking… that dress was not meant for long distances. I didn’t say much for fear of saying the wrong thing. They knew better. Several hours and a half bottle of wine and two boxes of chocolate later… I felt a lot better about it all… Though I didn’t know if my pride would ever recover. I was starting to think that wasn’t so terrible.
~~

You know… the worst part about wine is the next morning. I’ve had my pleasant day dream and now, with a Dwarven smith in my skull… I realize in all actuality that there are no happy endings. You see, even if this is one of those rare cases where I actually do see him now that he has made an admission of emotion… I’ve seen too many say they love someone only to drag themselves to some Dive, or else they disappear entirely. Much as I like believing this is no different… That small part of me that tries to keep the rest of me alive… says not to hold my breath. Who knows, maybe he will surprise me?

Anders isn’t keen on sharing, and just because I don’t claim to be his little trinket anymore… doesn’t mean he agrees. This will end one of three ways: Anders will kill us both for fun, and I am sure it will be unpleasant. Anders will kill him and drag me back to Waterdeep. He will kill Anders and I will find myself in the awkward position of owing him more than I could pay in a dozen lifetimes. Why can’t phoenixes rise rich -every- time?

I’ve wined and dined my way through what I took from that pile of Waterdhavian gutter rot… survived on coppers mostly, surprisingly relatively happy. The coin I’ve made for poetry and the coins I’ve found along the way are also gone. Evacuating mothers and children is pricy. Not that I regret it. Felt good to do something for someone else for a change, but it doesn’t change that I am short on funds. Here’s to hoping I don’t have to run screaming from the Coast just yet… or maybe even ever. Time will tell.

I’m not even sure how it has happened. Much less what exactly I’ve gotten myself into. I mean there have been sneaky little things I should have noticed and ignored, if for no other reason than that I refuse to believe it possible. He’s a good guy, been loyal, protective… traits I had meant to not so much exploit as utilize in a mutual friendship. Neither of us had spent much time exchanging life stories. Truthfully I never thought him interested in my own, and it never felt right to pry into a man’s past. I mean, I had said ‘no strings’ and ‘unattached’ and never heard him argue. He’s heard a few poems, but nothing soul searching or overly revealing…

How much of the personality that I portray does he know is mostly for show? What in the Nines am I supposed to do now? As it stands… There is a lot to figure out. If he goes, he goes, and most of this is idle worry… if he stays… I have some adjusting to do on my universal outlook of the male species… and I better at least warn him about Anders.
~~