#Durance the bastard that you are

[dyrwoodan]

Dyrcap, Golden Celery, and Skaenbone for Wren and Kaz! 💙😊

thank youuu ffion 💖

Dyrcap: The Dozens, House Doemenel, or the Crucible Knights?

wren: wren fucking Hated having to go ask for any of them for help. they had some minor interaction with the dozens after which they realized the dozens are just some assholes and they never interacted with them again. they were aware of house doemenel’s shady business so they didn’t even bother getting involved with them. well, their last option - the knights. wren spoke to them and they didn’t strike them as complete bastards so they agreed to help them with their little project. wren hated it and hated getting involved after it all ended how it ended but hey! they had allies now!

kaz: house doemenel. he never even interacted with the dozens or the knights. he managed to get on house doemenel’s good side by an accident and with a dash of dumbassery. a pinch of tomfoolery. (he hasn’t been in a big city in a while and he started going around the shops. he came across a shop with an Amazing Beautiful Exquisite bow. he had to have it but it was too expensive. this will be important later) as he was exploring defiance bay he walked into this seemingly abandoned house which was occupied by some hired thieves. he overhears them talking about the doemenels and lord reymont so it’s then obvious who hired them. after taking care of them he goes directly to the doemenel mansion and he is like Hey, i took care of your thieves and found this funny note, if you let me work for you and i will get a cut i won’t report this to reymont and you will get your jewel! so he does their job for them and they even agree to work together. and he buys the bow. later when he needs allies for the hearings he just asks his pal abrecan and it’s all good

Golden Celery: Which of the game one companions were in your Watcher’s main party? Are there any members in the party that you ship your Watcher with?

wren: edér, aloth, kana, sagani, hiravias/palleginakaz: edér, aloth, kana, sagani, hiravias/devil of carocneither of them really… dislikes anyone? mostly they all get along fine.wren feels the closest to edér, aloth, kana and sagani. they have nothing against hiravias or pallegina. wren is there for all of their companions even if they aren’t close friends. they never met durance or grieving mother (gm yes but i never finished her personal quest so idk what is up with her). they are not a fan of devil of caroc. they liked maneha. let’s say they didn’t meet zahua because i never did his personal quest either so,, idkkaz keeps everything skin-deep so he didn’t feel close to Anyone but. he liked edér and sagani… both kinda mom friends to him. he and aloth had a crush on each other but they never really acted on it because they were Dumb and Oblivious. kaz doesn’t really get kana and pallegina but he tolerates them. he liked hiravias and devil of caroc as well. other dispositions are the same as wren’s.

Skaenbone: Ultimately, which of the God’s of Eora did your Watcher side with in the Council of Stars quest?

wren: hylea. initially wanted to get galawain’s help because he was the patron of the hunt and wild places around which wren’s life used to revolve. but they didn’t vibe with him as much when they actually spoke to him. so they talked to all of the gods and hylea seemed to them personally like the best choice. they agreed to hylea’s proposition because it’s what wren wanted to do anyway.kaz: rymrgand. kaz only spoke to rymrgand since he wasn’t particularly interested in the other gods and just wanted to get this over with. and he vibed with rymrgand the most anyway. however, he didn’t give much thought to what rymrgand asked of him until he had to make the choice. after a bit of consideration he still decided to disintegrate the souls tho. seemed to him like the most sensible choice. he didn’t really feel like… manipulating the souls in any way. not by returning them to the bodies and not by returning them to the wheel. he firmly believes that people shouldn’t fuck around with souls. so he was like. ok. disintegration won’t do any harm i guess. seems safe.

flora of eora asks! 🍄

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Pillars of Eternity, day 3.

I will freely admit to donkey-laughing whenever Edér makes a hostile comment about Durance, but it doesn’t make up for having to sit through Durance in the first place.

Sikkerneq is really terribly intrigued by this tip about there being someone right here in Heritage Hill who could teach her to read Engwithan, even a little bit. Like, Engwithan isn’t her subject per se, she doesn’t even go here, but...come on now!

Ooh. Ooooooooh. That’s not a little bit. Hey, Kana, want some lessons?

Now that the machine’s been blown up, a quick look around the hinterlands on the way back to Caed Nua for a break, even if I’m not going to properly do Dyrford for a bit yet.

Hello, Grieving Mother. You’re weird, but so’s everyone in this party. You’re welcome as long as you mind your business.

You know what, Gathbin, you can have Caed Nua, just don’t be a massive dick about it. What’s that? You’re constitutionally incapable of not being a massive dick? Well, then.

Oh, Vianna. *sigh* Really, people have no respect for researchers these days. As Sikkerneq and Kana have both found out firsthand.

Hello, Pallegina. You’re formidable. And kind of hot. We’ll talk again later.

Random thought: I wonder how many Awakenings the Tarneq-Ilitsaak has led to, in cases where, say, the huntress was important to the elder in life, or something happens while they’re talking to remind them of something Awakening-worthy. I’m going to say it’s probably enough to be a possibility they understand and plan for.

You know what, Aloth, being Awakened sucks ass. If you want rid of Iselmyr, Sikkerneq won’t try to stop you.

Uh, sorry, Edér. We know you like her. We’ll find you someone else ferocious and unattainable, hmm?

Edér’s quest is done. Poor bastard. Sikkerneq is having a lot of feelings right now about family and home and what “fighting for your country” even means in light of...*gestures broadly*

Dealing with the machines at Teir Nowneth and Clîaban Rilag was totally fine and nice and not re-traumatizing at all. Especially the latter.

Next up, look in on Anslög’s Compass and Dyrford, then go back to mop up in Defiance Bay.

[bitterfucked]

been playin pillars of eternity which means readin online opinions about PoE and i fuckin hate dumbass fanboys tellin me durance is well written

a) i’m pretty sure half of these mouth breathers just think it’s funny that the dirty gross man says whore

b) his companion quest containing plot and history relevant information is actually bad writing

see, like pretty much every dialogue driven rpg, PoE is a game that allows you to make choices to be a good person. durance is a misogynist who recounts participating in genocide with zeal. literally everyone who is playing a good watcher will get two or three dialogue points in and be like “ooh... no. you’re not gonna be part of the party.”

there’s also the whole misogyny thing and the fact that he thinks watchers are scum that deserve to die, so non-good female watchers and watchers who don’t trust someone who admits that they would kill them under different circumstances are also unlikely to want this guy in their party.

and here’s the thing: completing his companion quest forces you to have this prick in your party over an extended period and to really talk to him and get to know him with no real options to meaningfully confront him about any of his behavior. like even someone who wants to give everyone a chance will probably give up on this bastard very quickly because any time you tell him he’s an awful person he instead tries to question why you don’t like things like genocide or misogyny (see point c). either way, you can’t just not talk to him and pretend like you don’t know he’s awful if you want to complete his companion quest. in fact, you pretty much have to be understanding of this awful man to even finish his quest.

and that’s bad writing given the medium. durance’s quest isn’t strictly necessary to the plot but it adds important context and any player who likes the roleplaying aspect of rpgs is very unlikely learn that context.

c) he is actually just poorly written. his whole thing is basically a shitty version of kreia’s “what if kindness softens you and prevents success when you meet greater trials” except it’s horribly undercut by the ending of both his quest and the game indicating that his source of this belief isn’t valid. kreia’s thoughts on this sort of thing are strengthened by what you learn of her as a person, whereas the more you get to know durance, the more you learn he’s mostly just found a niche in which his poor anger management can flourish. durance loves trial but ultimately isn’t challenged in the game. plus i think durance and kreia are written by the same person (at least the same company), meaning that they know how to write this sort of character and just failed to apply that knowledge and/or experience here.*

it’s also made more obvious how garbage the supposed “grey morality” of his character is when there are actually good examples of grey morality choices in the game. devil of caroc and maneha have hard choices to make with no obvious Good and not Evil route to take. even besides companions, the whole “what to tell the pregnant mother about the herbs” or “allow this liar to gain the throne” moments are more difficult moral decisions than “give this genocide loving sack of shit a platform to put your beliefs on “trial”“.

*another obsidian character, ulysses from fnv, i think is also the same writer and has the same sort of “i’m not a good person but dialogue with me involves flipping the question back onto you of what is a good person and examining choices in choice-based games” style of writing and also manages to be well done and actually make me think about my choices and his beliefs. though ulysses doesn’t have as much parallel in belief with durance as kreia does. still, there is someone at obsidian who can write this sort of character well and it makes it more frustrating that they just didn’t with durance.

[dayntee]

[PoE] OC INFO MEME | Idralia

Thank you @fangmich​ for the Watcher Wednesday fodder (and the PoE Discord for some writer’s block encouragement)!

B A S I C S:

Full name: Captain Idralia, Watcher of Caed Nua 

Gender: female

Sexuality: bi

Pronouns: she/her

O T H E R:

Family: Father (deceased), Mother, two elder brothers, two elder sisters. She honestly isn’t sure how any of them are doing, including unaware of her father’s death, as she was a bastard child and left her home at a relatively young age. 

Birthplace: Aedyr Empire, in a more rural area

Job(s): indentured servant (before leaving home), hunter (adolescent/young adult), scout/mercenary with the Royal Deadfire Company (adult)

Fears/Phobias: Betrayal of someone close, blindness/loss of sight, loneliness, unnatural quiet

Guilty pleasures: napping in the sun, climbing high places, small animals she almost certainly has no room for, convincing people she’s actually lost an eye (then swapping which eye she covers)

Hobbies: trying new spirits/alcohols, reading historical novels, mending her crews’ clothing, figuring out how to get back down from unnecessarily high vantages, going for sprints with Cantelope

M O R A L S:

Morality alignment: neutral good

Sins: Greed/Envy - she often finds she covets that which she doesn’t, or never, had

Virtues: Honesty (painfully so), Sympathy, Loyalty

T H I S - O R - T H A T:

introvert / extrovert

organized / disorganized

close-minded / open-minded

calm / anxious / restless

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between

patient / impatient

outspoken / reserved

leader / follower / flexible

empathetic / unempathetic

optimistic / pessimistic (more so in PoE2) / realistic

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S:

OTP: Idralia/Aloth

Acceptable ships: Idralia/Xoti, Idralia/Serafen (more like fuckbuddies than a relationship, let’s be honest)

OT3: N/A - she tends to be singularly focused, so even if it’s casual sex, it’s casual sex with one person at a time

BroTP: Idralia/Eder, Idralia/Pallegina (Id has little sister syndrome here SO BAD), Idralia/Hiravias, Idralia/Sagani

NOTP: Idralia/Durance? lol There aren’t a lot of people she doesn’t get along with, but I think Durance is everyone’s exception.

Aesthetic Ship: Idralia/Maia - personality-wise, they’re far too similar to actually function in a relationship, but I love the idea of two ranger ladies tearing up the Deadfire together

[miss-chaos-mouse]

Chaos Plays: Pillars of Eternity

So I’ve finally been progressing in Pillars of Eternity - as it would be important to finish before the sequel arrives - after months of not playing at all to the point I forgot what I was even supposed to be doing and re-rolled a character.

And ooooohhh is it starting to give me some Neverwinter Nights vibes. I know everyone is all “spiritual Baldur’s Gate” which it is, to be fair, but I’m finding myself slipping back into my old NWN mindset while playing and interacting with the party. Which just means I’m learning which party members don’t give two fucks about me backstabbing and murdering my way into good graces with the shadiest House in Defiance Bay or bargaining with undead dudes in sewers.

I haven’t micromanaged a party this hard in YEARS either. My best don’t-you-let-me-die-you-bastards party combo seems to be a rogue class Watcher, Eder, Pallegina, Durance, Grieving Mother, and switching out Aloth and Hiravias depending on the quest choices.

[queen-scribbles]

A Likely Story

For @pillarspromptsweekly​ #13. Roll For It the Third. I got Edér, runaway, and attraction. Naturally, this means writing Tavi being a filthy scheming shipper re: him and Charity.

Patience had never been Tavi’s strong suit. This was responsible for a large percentage of the fights she’d gotten in in her life, several grudges she could’ve avoided, and also was why she was currently wandering around Dyrford rather than helping Edér with dinner. In her defense, he had kicked her out(sort of); it wasn’t as if she’d abandoned him or anything. And it was the nicest she’d ever been kicked out of anywhere; a heavily hinting ‘Maybe you’d have more fun if you went for a walk’. Recognizing that her overabundance of energy was testing even Edér‘s near-infinite patience, Tavi saw herself out and started a meandering path to catalog how much Dyrford village had changed since his election as mayor.

There were definitely more people.  Edér had wasted no time once he was mayor “borrowing” Raedric’s strategy of offering new settlers free land. Given that he was a much kinder leader than Raedric had been, it worked like a charm. And more people meant some of the more dilapidated buildings were repaired for use, business and trade picked up, and the economy was improving. Right now it was only incremental progress, but it showed promise of continuing for the foreseeable future.

“Hey, lady, look out!”

Tavi instinctively hugged the side of the building she was passing, just in time to get out of the way as two children--an orlan and a dwarf--barreled past in pursuit of a large, runaway wooden hoop. She watched them run, noting with amusement the hoop got further away with every second, the children’s short legs no match for gravity.

That’s not going to end well, she thought to herself. as she resumed meandering. But it was good to see children. There hadn’t been many on her first visit to the village.

As she passed the temple of Berath, Harbinger Beodmar waved a greeting from the front steps, and Tavi smiled as she waved back. This used to be considered the outskirts of Dyrford, but now that all the property was being settled and cultivated, the town’s western border extended another couple miles.

Charity’s land is out this way. The thought was a random one, but it made her grin, and Tavi’s meandering turned suddenly purposeful.

Charity was working in her garden, hair pulled up in a messy bun, and waved when she saw Tavi approaching. “Hey there, Watcher. You visiting our esteemed mayor again?”

“I was,” Tavi laughed. “Then I got bored and started bein’ a fuckin’ nuisance so he kicked me out.”

“Wow, you actually found the limits of his patience,” Charity said with a chuckle.  “Though I have to say, kicking someone out doesn’t sound like Edér.”

“It may have been more.... suggesting I burn off some energy by going for a walk,” Tavi conceded, leaning against the split-rail fence. “He’s makin’ something time-consumin’ but delicious smellin’ for dinner an’ I don’t have the patience to help.” She grinned. “Hey, you wanna join us? From the look of things, there was way more than he an’ I can eat, and I know he enjoys your company.”

Despite Tavi’s best effort to make the phrase sound innocent, it looked like Charity still blushed faintly, streaking dirt across her forehead as she swiped at loose dark red strands. “You sure? I feel like he’s probably seen enough of me recently.”

“Nah, he won’t mind,” Tavi promised. “It takes a lot for Edér to get tired of people. ‘Cept Durance, but we all got tired of him pretty quick. Hey, if I can pry a little,” she tucked her hair behind her ears, “how’d you an’ Edér actually meet? He didn’t give me a whole lot of details.”

“Oh, well, it was back when I first moved here.” Charity patted the earth around the last of the flowers she’d been tending and stood, dusting her hands on her pants. “There was a really big stump over there-” she pointed at a patch of ground now covered in sprouting vegetables- “that I couldn’t get out by myself. And believe me, I tried. When there was a tree attached, I probably wouldn’t have been able to get my arms around the bastard. I’m no weakling, but that stump was not moving for one person. Still gave it my best shot, ‘cause I can be awful stubborn when I want to be, then went to the tavern to try an’ drown my sore muscles and complain.” She chuckled. “He was sitting nearby, overheard me grousing, an’ offered to help.”

“Sounds like Edér,” Tavi nodded. “Figures he’d still wanna help everyone individually, even as mayor.”

“See, I didn’t know he was the mayor,” Charity said with a sheepish laugh, twirling a loose lock of hair between her fingers. “New to town an’ all. Wasn’t til we were halfway through choppin’ out the damn roots; someone walkin’ by said Mornin’ Mayor Teylecg an’ I almost dropped my mattock.  Edér waved it off, said he liked doing this kind of work and I was good company, that he wouldn’t have offered if he hadn’t meant it. It took us almost all day to get that damn stump out. In the course of talkin’ we realized we were both Eothasian, which led to more talkin’ and then to us building a little chapel on my land.”

“Yeah, that he mentioned on my last visit,” Tavi nodded, shifting position when a splinter dug into her arm. “Speakin’ of visitin’, I really am positive he won’t mind if you have dinner with us.”

Charity hesitated, clearly tempted. “When were you planning to eat? I’m something of a mess right now.” She gestured at her dirt- and sweat-streaked clothes.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s enough time for you to clean up,” Tavi said with a mischievous smile. “After all, Edér already hasta either come find me or wait ‘til I wander back. If I wander back with a guest, I doubt he’ll complain. ‘Specially if it’s you.”

This time, Charity definitely blushed; her olive complexion doing little to hide it even as she ducked her head. “Well, alright then. You can come in and make yourself at home while I make myself presentable.”

>O<

It wasn’t a long wait, but it did give Tavi enough time to notice the hints of who Charity was sprinkled through the front rooms. From the lighting via a single lantern in the center as a nod to her faith to the half-full bookshelves to the shield and flail mounted on the wall.

“Are you combat trained?” Tavi asked idly, raising her voice to ensure it carried. “I thought you were a farmer. And priest.”

“I am,” Charity replied, over the sound of splashing water. “I did a stint in my local militia just before I hit my twenties. Kept up the skillset, enough to take care of myself, anyway. When I... left, I did a bit of adventuring before I settled down here. Priests who can defend themselves are in high enough demand, most folk didn’t care if I worshipped a dead god. Long as I don’t get too preachy.”

“Nice for you,” Tavi said, studying the flail and shield. They were both good but standard quality, and the painted metal shield had plainly taken a beating. “What made you decide to leave?”

“Home didn’t want me anymore, so went lookin’ for a new one,” Charity said. She emerged from her bedroom clad in a clean shirt and trousers, face and arms clear of dirt streaks and hair tied in a ponytail rather than the earlier bun. “It’s a pretty common backstory for an adventurer.”

“Sorry for pryin’‘,” Tavi said, feeling just a tad sheepish for being so nosy. “My curiosity gets the best of me sometimes.”

“Happens to everyone, and I don’t mind,” Charity assured her. “Now, let’s get going. You’ve piqued my curiosity about this dinner.”

Tavi buried a smirk as she followed her out. Yeah, sure. Dinner’s what you’re interested in. She kept the thought to herself, however, and the women simply made small talk as they headed back toward the main part of town.

>O<

Tavi was right. When she walked in and announced she’d brought a guest and hoped that was alright, Edér spun around, grinned at Charity, and grabbed an extra plate.

“More the merrier,” he laughed. “Besides, there’s no way Tavi and I can eat all this food by ourselves. Hope you like boar.”

“Only thing better is a good venison stew,” Charity replied, a matching grin curving her lips.

“Woman after my own heart,�� Edér nodded appreciatively. “That was the plan for tonight, but the deer must’ve been on to me; couldn’t find a damn one when I went huntin’ this mornin’.”

“I’m sure you’ll outsmart them eventually,” Charity joked. “But for now, boar’s fine. Tavi said you were preparing it some special way?”

“Yeah.” Edér vanished briefly into the kitchen for a carving knife. “There’s this glaze I learned about, honey and some other stuff, that I wanted to try. But you gotta put it on in thin coats, and watch it while it cooks slow to make sure it doesn’t burn.” He shot Tavi a teasing grin. “Watcher didn’t feel like helpin’ with that part.”

Tavi shrugged. “I have better things to do than watch fuckin’ meat cook, Teylecg.”

“Like kidnapping dinner quests?” he teased.

“I just asked,” Tavi defended, laughing. “There was no kidnapping involved!”

“That’s true, she did just offer,” Charity backed her up.

“Thank you,” Tavi said emphatically. “So, let’s see how well this takes-forever-to-cook boar of yours tastes.”

It tasted delicious. Not enough so that Tavi would ever cook it herself, but she did want the recipe for the cook at Caed Nua. But she had another question she was far more keen to get answered, one that had been bothering her for a while. “Anyone give either of you trouble for bein’ Eothasian?”

“It’s not like I go around blabbin’ about it, Tav,” Edér pointed out, swiping his thumb along the edge of his plate to collect glaze drippings and then sucking it clean.

“No, I know,” Tavi said. “But you don’t exactly go out of your way to hide it, either. So I’m just curious if Dyrford treats you any better than fuckin’ Gilded Vale.”

He shrugged. “Anywhere would be better than Gilded Vale. I’m sure there are rumors, some people less than happy about it, but most are willin’ to overlook it for free land.” He smiled sardonically. “No one’s said anything about hangin’ me yet, so that’s a good sign.”

Tavi laughed. “Sure is. I’d hate to hafta fight a whole fuckin’ town to save your ass.”

“Aw, you’d do that for me? That’s sweet.”

“Anything for a friend,” she said with a grin. “How ‘bout you, Charity? Anyone callin’ for your head?”

Charity smiled faintly, and shook her head. “The people next to me are from Aedyr, so they wouldn’t care. But most of the time when folk pry I just say I’m a former priest, which is true. I’m not actively serving as a priest; I’m a farmer, and militia volunteer, but not a priest. They don’t need to know I still worship Eothas, just privately.”

“But no one get suspicious of the amount of time of you two spend together? I mean, the rumored-Eothasian mayor and the “former” Eothasian priest?” Even as she spoke, an idea struck Tavi that made her fight to bury a grin. “For all the jokes out there about  farmers and such bein’ slow on the uptake, they ain’t stupid.”

“‘Preciate the vote of confidence,”  Edér drawled. “What’s your point?”

Tavi shrugged. “Didn’t have one, just idle curiosity. But I have an idea on how you two could avoid raising suspicions...”

“I’m all ears,” Charity said, pushing her plate away and picking idly at the handle of her tankard. “Not that I think there are suspicions, yet, but if we can avoid them altogether, that’s for the best.”

Tavi bit her lip to keep from smirking, her gaze flicking from Edér to Charity and back again. “You could court her.” Berath’s bony ass, she’d expected Charity to blush at the suggestion; the woman clearly had it bad. She hadn’t expected  Edér to turn the color of a ripe tomato as well. “Just pretend,” she added hastily before one of them spontaneously combusted from the heat radiating off their faces. “Y’know, just for show. If people think you’re romantically involved, they won’t give a second thought to you visitin’ each other s’much.” They were still both staring at her like she’d grown a second head, so she rolled on. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not sayin’ you hafta stick your tongues down each other’s throats in the town square. Just... hold hands in public occasionally.  Edér, bring flowers every so often when you visit her. Hel, I’ll help you pick good ones. You’re both nice people, who’re friends an’ already spend time together-” A lot of time together... -”It shouldn’t be that hard to pull off.” She grinned as their matching stunned expressions both turned thoughtful. “Someone give me some feedback, here.”

“It... could work,” Charity said slowly, after a healthy pause, playing with the end of her ponytail as she glanced at Edér. “But I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything...”

“I don’t,”  Edér assured her, running one hand through his hair. “It makes more sense’n anything I could come up with, that’s for sure.” He scratched his beard and grinned at her. “Long as you don’t feel pressured.” 

“No, no, it makes sense to me. And she’s right, we do get along and spend time together as it is. This ruse shouldn’t be too hard to keep up. I-If you wanted to try, I mean.”

Edér smiled-almost sheepishly-and cleared his throat. “Well, then. Charity, I would like to ask permission to pretend to seek your hand.”

“And I will grant you permission to permission to pretend to seek my hand,” Charity giggled, matching his smile.

They were both, Tavi couldn’t help but note, still blushing faintly. “Well,” she said, pushing back her chair and reaching for empty plates. “I’ll clean up while you two work out the details.” She as moving before either of them could protest.

It took a lot of willpower to wait until her back was turned to let out the smirk, but Tavi let it stay the entire time she was in the kitchen.

-----------------------------------

This is gonna be my first time writing fake dating, and it’s already fun. :3 There will be more. (also, I spent like ten minutes internally debating if there were tomatoes in the Dyrwood for Tavi to make that comparison, and then decided I don’t care :P)

[ofblcckcats]

You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time— Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off the beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My Polack friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine, Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You— Not God but a swastika So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I'm finally through. The black telephone's off at the root, The voices just can't worm through. If I've killed one man, I've killed two— The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There's a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through. In Memory of W. B. Yeats by W. H. Auden I He disappeared in the dead of winter: The brooks were frozen, the airports almost deserted, And snow disfigured the public statues; The mercury sank in the mouth of the dying day. What instruments we have agree The day of his death was a dark cold day. Far from his illness The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests, The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays; By mourning tongues The death of the poet was kept from his poems. But for him it was his last afternoon as himself, An afternoon of nurses and rumours; The provinces of his body revolted, The squares of his mind were empty, Silence invaded the suburbs, The current of his feeling failed; he became his admirers. Now he is scattered among a hundred cities And wholly given over to unfamiliar affections, To find his happiness in another kind of wood And be punished under a foreign code of conscience. The words of a dead man Are modified in the guts of the living. But in the importance and noise of to-morrow When the brokers are roaring like beasts on the floor of the Bourse, And the poor have the sufferings to which they are fairly accustomed, And each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his freedom, A few thousand will think of this day As one thinks of a day when one did something slightly unusual. What instruments we have agree The day of his death was a dark cold day. II You were silly like us; your gift survived it all: The parish of rich women, physical decay, Yourself. Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry. Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still, For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives In the valley of its making where executives Would never want to tamper, flows on south From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs, Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives, A way of happening, a mouth. III Earth, receive an honoured guest: William Yeats is laid to rest. Let the Irish vessel lie Emptied of its poetry. In the nightmare of the dark All the dogs of Europe bark, And the living nations wait, Each sequestered in its hate; Intellectual disgrace Stares from every human face, And the seas of pity lie Locked and frozen in each eye. Follow, poet, follow right To the bottom of the night, With your unconstraining voice Still persuade us to rejoice; With the farming of a verse Make a vineyard of the curse, Sing of human unsuccess In a rapture of distress; In the deserts of the heart Let the healing fountain start, In the prison of his days Teach the free man how to praise. Proem: To Brooklyn Bridge by Hart Crane How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him, Shedding white rings of tumult, building high Over the chained bay waters Liberty— Then, with inviolate curve, forsake our eyes As apparitional as sails that cross Some page of figures to be filed away; —Till elevators drop us from our day ... I think of cinemas, panoramic sleights With multitudes bent toward some flashing scene Never disclosed, but hastened to again, Foretold to other eyes on the same screen; And Thee, across the harbor, silver-paced As though the sun took step of thee, yet left Some motion ever unspent in thy stride,— Implicitly thy freedom staying thee! Out of some subway scuttle, cell or loft A bedlamite speeds to thy parapets, Tilting there momently, shrill shirt ballooning, A jest falls from the speechless caravan. Down Wall, from girder into street noon leaks, A rip-tooth of the sky's acetylene; All afternoon the cloud-flown derricks turn ... Thy cables breathe the North Atlantic still. And obscure as that heaven of the Jews, Thy guerdon ... Accolade thou dost bestow Of anonymity time cannot raise: Vibrant reprieve and pardon thou dost show. O harp and altar, of the fury fused, (How could mere toil align thy choiring strings!) Terrific threshold of the prophet's pledge, Prayer of pariah, and the lover's cry,— Again the traffic lights that skim thy swift Unfractioned idiom, immaculate sigh of stars, Beading thy path—condense eternity: And we have seen night lifted in thine arms. Under thy shadow by the piers I waited; Only in darkness is thy shadow clear. The City's fiery parcels all undone, Already snow submerges an iron year ... O Sleepless as the river under thee, Vaulting the sea, the prairies' dreaming sod, Unto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend And of the curveship lend a myth to God. Tom O' Bedlam's Song anonymous ballad, circa 1620 From the hag and hungry goblin That into rags would rend ye, The spirit that stands by the naked man In the Book of Moons, defend ye. That of your five sound senses You never be forsaken, Nor wander from your selves with Tom Abroad to beg your bacon,    While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,    Feeding, drink or clothing;    Come dame or maid, be not afraid,    Poor Tom will injure nothing. Of thirty bare years have I Twice twenty been enragèd, And of forty been three times fifteen In durance soundly cagèd. On the lordly lofts of Bedlam With stubble soft and dainty, Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips, ding-dong, With wholesome hunger plenty,    And now I sing, Any food, any feeding,    Feeding, drink or clothing;    Come dame or maid, be not afraid,    Poor Tom will injure nothing. With a thought I took for Maudlin, And a cruse of cockle pottage, With a thing thus tall, sky bless you all, I befell into this dotage. I slept not since the Conquest, Till then I never wakèd, Till the roguish boy of love where I lay Me found and stript me nakèd.    While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,    Feeding, drink or clothing;    Come dame or maid, be not afraid,    Poor Tom will injure nothing. When I short have shorn my sow's face And swigged my horny barrel, In an oaken inn, I pound my skin As a suit of gilt apparel; The moon's my constant mistress, And the lovely owl my marrow; The flaming drake and the night crow make Me music to my sorrow.    While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,    Feeding, drink or clothing;    Come dame or maid, be not afraid,    Poor Tom will injure nothing. The palsy plagues my pulses When I prig your pigs or pullen Your culvers take, or matchless make Your Chanticleer or Sullen. When I want provant, with Humphry I sup, and when benighted, I repose in Paul's with waking souls, Yet never am affrighted.    But I do sing, Any food, any feeding,    Feeding, drink or clothing;    Come dame or maid, be not afraid,    Poor Tom will injure nothing. I know more than Apollo, For oft when he lies sleeping I see the stars at mortal wars In the wounded welkin weeping. The moon embrace her shepherd, And the Queen of Love her warrior, While the first doth horn the star of morn, And the next the heavenly Farrier.    While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,    Feeding, drink or clothing;    Come dame or maid, be not afraid,    Poor Tom will injure nothing. The Gypsies, Snap and Pedro, Are none of Tom's comradoes, The punk I scorn, and the cutpurse sworn And the roaring boy's bravadoes. The meek, the white, the gentle, Me handle not nor spare not; But those that cross Tom Rynosseross Do what the panther dare not.    Although I sing, Any food, any feeding,    Feeding, drink or clothing;    Come dame or maid, be not afraid,    Poor Tom will injure nothing. With an host of furious fancies, Whereof I am commander, With a burning spear and a horse of air To the wilderness I wander. By a knight of ghosts and shadows I summoned am to tourney Ten leagues beyond the wide world's end: Methinks it is no journey.    Yet I will sing, Any food, any feeding,    Feeding, drink or clothing;    Come dame or maid, be not afraid,    Poor Tom will injure nothing. After the Persian by Louise Bogan I I do not wish to know The depths of your terrible jungle: From what nest your leopard leaps Or what sterile lianas are at once your serpents' disguise      and home. I am the dweller on the temperate threshold, The strip of corn and vine, Where all is translucence (the light!) Liquidity, and the sound of water. Here the days pass under shade And the nights have the waxing and the waning moon. Here the moths take flight at evening; Here at morning the dove whistles and the pigeons coo. Here, as night comes on, the fireflies wink and snap Close to the cool ground, Shining in a profusion Celestial or marine. Here it is never wholly dark but always wholly green, And the day stains with what seems to be more than the      sun What may be more than my flesh. II I have wept with the spring storm; Burned with the brutal summer. Now, hearing the wind and the twanging bow-strings, I know what winter brings. The hunt sweeps out upon the plain And the garden darkens. They will bring the trophies home To bleed and perish Beside the trellis and the lattices, Beside the fountain, still flinging diamond water, Beside the pool (Which is eight-sided, like my heart). III All has been translated into treasure: Weightless as amber, Translucent as the currant on the branch, Dark as the rose's thorn. Where is the shimmer of evil? This is the shell's iridescence And the wild bird's wing. IV Ignorant, I took up my burden in the wilderness. Wise with great wisdom, I shall lay it down upon flowers. V Goodbye, goodbye! There was so much to love, I could not love it all; I could not love it enough. Some things I overlooked, and some I could not find. Let the crystal clasp them When you drink your wine, in autumn. Elegy Written in a Country Church-Yard by Thomas Gray The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share, Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

[sedimentarydearwatson]

The adventures of Neus in the land of Oh Gods Why Does Everything Happen So Much.

Several days of running around has netted Neus a highly positive reputation in the Gilded Vale, a stronghold co-managed by a talking chair, four friends, a pet spider, and some mild concern she might take a flying leap off the sanity plank in the future if she doesn’t do something about this Watcher biz.

She actually wasn’t too perturbed by the spirit sight before the meeting with Maerwald. Outside the broad guideline of Do Good Things, Neus views as it her priestly duty to offer consult and comfort: not to grant forgiveness, necessarily, but to give advice or aid where able, and simply listen where there is nothing that can be done. The wandering therapist of Eora, if you will. Seeing spirits, then, seemed almost a blessing - both instrument and expanded ministry!

After Maerwald...”Well,” Neus says, staring down at the man’s gaunt frame. “Perhaps I was once a succession of fat and boring bakers?” The silence stretches too long before Edér clears his throat over-loudly and says “Sure, can’t rule it out” and elbows Aloth to prompt the muttered addition of something that is either agreement or the sudden onset of dust allergies. 

Anxiety is low - she genuinely doesn’t think it likely her past lives would be as dramatically bad as Maerwald’s, and she still finds the Watcher perks useful - but her own life has been quite enough to deal with without shouldering all the ones that came before it as well, and the restless sleeping is a bit of a trial, so it’s off to find the Leaden Key and see if the peculiar downsides of Watcherdom can’t be negated somehow.

In the meantime: friends! Neus and Edér hit it off pretty quickly in a “s-same god?” “same god!” sort of way; she’s delighted to find his feelings about Eothas align so closely with her own, while he’s frankly just flabbergasted to find an actual Eothian priest wandering around Dyrwood. Delving into the sad story of the Gilded Vale’s temple was a somber moment for the both of them, and his involvement in the Saint’s War is not a contentious point as yet, but it’ll be interesting to see where that story goes. Partly as a result of the fact he’s stuck at the head of my formation as the meatshield, I see him taking the lead a lot; he’s older, he knows the area, and he’s experienced in combat. The group’s quite democratic overall, and Neus is unavoidably the pivotal point of Weird Shit That Keeps Happening, but if Edér gives something that sounds like an order...there aren’t too many complaints. Yet.

Aloth is the first travelling companion Neus picked up who didn’t die shortly afterwards and she’s...patiently curious about the fact there is so obviously something up with him. It’s not exactly difficult to draw lines of comparison between his occasional strange outbursts and Maerwald’s cycling personalities, but she’s willing to respect his right to tell his story if and when he wishes, so long as he isn’t setting them on fire in their sleep. In the meantime, they both have that good old high Lore attribute so I assume there’s chatter about books and history going on.

Durance and Kana are comparatively new acquaintances (which isn’t saying much since everyone’s newly come together - she likes what she knows of Edér and Aloth, but that’s all of about six days worth of knowing) so opinions are still very broad. Durance is a crotchety and cryptic old bastard, but as a fellow priest with some knowledge of Watchers, she treats him with respect for now. Kana she likes for his cheer and honest nature, and she finds it very interesting to watch a chanter at work. Their powers combined, there is so much buffing going on in these dungeons you would not believe.

Acquiring ownership of a cursed keep was unexpected to say the least, and given how many unexpected events have piled on her this last week - she’s not quite calling it divine manipulation, yet, but it’s definitely in the realms of The Very Unsubtle Signs Of The Universe Suggest I Might As Well Make The Best Of It. If nothing else it’s ridiculously ironic to have been hitching a ride with ill-fated settlers only to end up with a larger chunk of land than they likely could have hoped for. The steward seems nice.

Lastly: I already know I’m going to spend the game excitedly shoving every single pet into my pockets, but Neus is particularly :D! about the pocket spider, which is building up to a fantastic aesthetic and I couldn’t be happier. 

[secretsfromwholecloth]

So I was going to leave this for Friday night, when I start my next vacation from work, but you know what, fuck it, let’s do this.

Everyone, meet Sikkerneq, Rauataian boreal dwarf chanter.

Aside from the Rua kids (who may be using their father’s given name as a patronymic, given that he signs his work as simply “Coralmason Rua”), we have no evidence for surnames in Rauatai—every other Rauataian we meet, right on up to the hazanuis, is mono-named—and none at all for any use of surnames in Naasitaq, our girl isn’t going to have a surname either. Though I may pick a patronymic for her at some point.

Why yes, the prospect of pronouncing “Sikkerneq” does give Rauataian speakers fits. “Sikerneke” is the best most of them can do, and her classmates have nicknamed her “Kerno” for ease of pronunciation. Nicknaming is an affectionate thing that means they accept her, right? Right? (Bonus points if it means something mildly unflattering in Rauataian—who’s got the conlang documents?)

Just...just stop. Please. No one asked you for your comedy stylings on the topic of Naasitaqi phonology, /q/ and /ʁ/ sound absolutely nothing like whatever you’re doing with your throat mucus there, and you’re almost certainly doing this deliberately to assert dominance over the weird “foreign” girl (who was born in Rauatai, what the fuck is your problem). You know what, “Kerno” is fine, just forget she said anything.

Rauatai now has a small enclave of boreal dwarves in one of its major cities, because I said so. The enclave is too small to see to all of its children’s education, so Sikkerneq has grown up side-by-side with her aumaua neighbors and absorbed mainstream Rauataian values, though she’s not quite as enthusiastic about it as the Ruas, even as she’s had some of her people’s traditions passed down to her at home.

Yep, this one’s getting all of my awkward second-generation feels. Or, more specifically, those of a much younger me who hadn’t yet learned to be really critical of the country they lived in.

I’m giving her the Scholar background; I’ve given a little thought to what she might be in school for, and the temptation is strong to get cute and make it linguistics. In which case it’d make perfect sense if her original reason for heading for the Dyrwood was to do fieldwork on Aedyran, Glanfathan, or one of the other languages spoken in the area.

If all this sounds a lot like Kana, well, yes. In practice, I’ll be working to distinguish them, and there’ll be things they won’t see eye-to-eye on. And yes, she’s definitely going to have some complicated feelings about Sagani.

The superficial stuff: She’s 29 (solidly college-aged for a dwarf), solid and on the short side of average, with tan skin and dark hair worn in the sort of chin-length, half-up style that’s popular among aumaua, though it doesn’t look anywhere near the same on her.

I have one more faction and one more romance to play through to bag the set, so here we are. She’ll be romancing Maia and siding with the RDC in Deadfire.

Gods, I missed playing a squishy support character. Way too many of my favorite companions are big, tanky bastards with minimal support capabilities (or indeed small, squishy bastards with minimal support capabilities) and had to be dropped for party balance reasons during Oriol’s and especially Aegen’s playthroughs. Now I should be able to go back to indulging myself.

Nice, I always like it when I can keep Heodan uninjured. Even if it obviously doesn’t last.

Ah, Story mode. Where a fatigued and hurt level 2 character can solo the bear and bandits in the Valewood without an issue rather than having to sneak past and come back with friends.

To Gilded Vale! Sikkerneq isn’t quite sure what she was expecting in terms of the conditions she’d be doing her research in, but it wasn’t this. It really wasn’t this. Even without weird things happening to her brain, Gilded Vale is...yeah.

Hello, Aloth. That situation with almost getting into a fight with the locals makes as much sense as anything that’s happened to Sikkerneq since the attack on the caravan, so sure, why not, let’s be friends. And she’ll be mentally taking notes on the differences between Aloth’s Aedyran and the locals’ (and Iselmyr’s Hylspeak).

Hello, Edér. You seemed a little weird at first, but your humor seems a lot more reasonable (if a little mean—Sikkerneq is giving you some mighty side-eye after that crack about a dwarf woman only counting as half a person) now that she’s had a look around. This is her life now. May as well make friends with you, too, and catalogue your dialect features.

It’s weird, playing a Watcher who doesn’t immediately love Edér more than life itself, but they’re going to be friends. I do have limits.

Hello, Durance. You’re annoying and terrible, but Sikkerneq has enough morbid curiosity in her to keep you around. For now.

Sure, Kolsc, why not, she’ll help take out Raedric. This is her life now. Makes as much sense as anything else that’s happened.

Next up, grabbing Kana and exploring Caed Nua.

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Pillars of Eternity, day 8.

Well, if you have to get taken out in battle, may as well do it in style—Pallegina needed one more resurrection to finish upgrading St. Ydwen’s Redeemer, and she got it at the hands of Concelhaut himself.

Speaking of which, the old bastard’s been disposed of. Aegen got in the killing blow himself.

Llengrath has been befriended. First time I’ve ever done that, too—Clelia never met her, and Oriol killed her. We’ll see you again soon, Llengrath.

Aegen has officially signed on with Berath. Now it’s time to go pay Thaos a visit.

Poor, sweet Kana. I think I broke him. He’s not taking Iovara’s revelation well at all.

Aloth is having a bit of a rough time with it as well. And yet I don’t get to hug either of them, because this is Pillars and there are no hugs here.

Pallegina roasting Thaos never, ever gets old.

Thaos’s soul has been ripped apart in vengeance. It’s less than he deserves, really. Even if Zahua doesn’t quite approve.

Endings:

The Crucible Knights saw sense and returned to their roots. Good for them. Certainly beats the alternative.

Abydon’s renewal led to a flowering of research on Engwithan ruins, which rather irritated the Glanfathans. And Stalwart is thriving and has made friends with the ogres but is having problems with the Readcerans. No, no potential for unforeseen consequences here!

Devil of Caroc walked into the sea. Have fun with that, Devil.

Zahua set up shop in an empty monastery and started taking in students. Good stuff.

Maneha continued adventuring. Hey, it’s a life she enjoyed. I hope.

Pallegina was exiled. She had to know it was a possibility. I’ll make it up to you in Deadfire, friend.

Hiravias continued traveling as the Autumn Druid. Have fun out there, little guy!

Edér joined the Night Market. I look forward to seeing how that affects him in Deadfire.

Aloth is destroying the Leaden Key, as usual. Good luck, Aloth.

Kana became a voice for isolation. I’m sorry, big guy. I really am.

Grieving Mother became the village midwife in Dyrford. Huh, glad to see she wasn’t permanently damaged by me failing her quest.

Durance set himself on fire. :D

Sagani became a beloved family woman. Aww.

Next up, Deadfire. I’ve still got a little time tonight.

[queen-scribbles]

Reasons

For the @pillarspromptsweekly​ first prompt

The voices were gone, was the first thing Tavi noticed on her sluggish return to consciousness(with no small amount of relief). So was her armor, followed shortly after and greatly accelerated said return to consciousness.

“Where the fuck’s my stuff?” she asked with a groan, pushing herself upright. Her head hurt.

“Good morning to you, too,” a familiar voice said from next to her makeshift bedroll. “Your stuff is fine. And how many times do I have to tell you that alive is preferable?”

Tavi chuckled hoarsely, blinking and rubbing sleep from her eyes with the heel of one hand until the blurry, dark-haired figure sitting next to her sharpened and cleared into Aloth, sleeves rolled up past his elbows and hair tied back. “Either I’m dead and this is my reward in the afterlife, or I have really fuckin’ good timin’.”

Aloth laughed softly--a tad sheepishly. “The latter, I promise.”

Tavi raked one hand through her hair. “So what do I have to thank for... this?” She gestured loosely at him.

“We weren’t sure how long you were going to sleep--Berath knows you needed it--so we started looking for how Thaos got in, figuring we can use it to get out. Since he collapsed it behind him, there are parts where digging is required.”

She flicked a glance at his hands. There was dirt under his nails, and a few faint scratches across the backs. “All of you?”

“All of us,” he nodded. “We’ve taken turns sitting with you so you wouldn’t be alone when you woke. You just missed Pallegina.”

“I really do have good timin’,” Tavi muttered. “Nothin’ against Pallegina, but I’d rather wake up to you than her.” She yawned. “How long did I sleep?”

“Best guess?” Aloth paused, biting his lip in thought. “Seventeen hours, roughly. It’s hard to tell time down here.”

“Holy shit,” she said under her breath. “No wonder I’m hungry...”

“Here.” Aloth dug in one of the packs piled nearby and handed her some food.

“Wait.” Tai caught his arm with her free hand as he started to sit back and pulled him close enough to steal a kiss. “That’s better.” She rested her forehead against his. “You know I find you distracting like this.”

He brushed her cheek with his thumb, fingers cool as they rested against the side of her neck. “Would you believe me if I said I’d forgotten?”

Tavi grinned and kissed him again. “Not for one fuckin’ second.”

“Smart woman.” Aloth sat back with a reluctant sigh. “You should eat. I’ll go tell the others you’re awake.”

She nodded, sitting cross-legged to eat her meal. “I’ll come help dig as soon as I’m done.”

“You really should rest more...” he started to protest.

“I can rest at the Celestial Sapling when we get out,” Tavi countered around a mouthful of jerky. “They have nice rooms, and we have a fuckton of money to rent said rooms as long as we damn well please. I’m helping.”

For the briefest instant Aloth looked ready to further argue the point, but nodded. “Alright. As you wish.”

>><><<

Even with all of them pitching in to tunnel through the rubble, it was still almost four days before they emerged at Teir Evron. It felt the same, and yet somehow also different. Like she was seeing somewhere familiar in a more hopeful light. Or some philosophical shit like that. She didn’t want to do mental gymnastic right now, she wanted to get clean and then sleep. A sentiment she was sure the rest of her party shared. They were all sweaty, all dirty, all exhausted, and the thought of an inn had never been more tantalizing.

When they finally reached the Celestial Sapling, Tavi was ready to all but beg for the best room they could have. Fortunately, there was a suite available, with plenty of beds “Alright, that’s a blessing. How much extra to get tubs and hot water sent up so we can all get fuckin’ clean?” 

The innkeeper paused, looked at their group--one eyebrow twitching at Kana--and did some calculations in his head before naming a sum that sounded more than fair. Tavi obligingly plunked the coins down on the counter, with a few extra fennings for their trouble. “We’re gonna want that brought up as soon as possible, yeah?”

The innkeeper nodded. “I hear ya. I’ll make sure the staff don’t dilly dally.”

He was as good as his word. They’d barely had time to reach the room, set down their packs, and start discussing who got which bed(with copious teasing from Sagani and Hiravias not at all subtly wondering if Tavi and Aloth would want to share) before the staff arrived, large wooden tub and several buckets of water in tow. A potentially heated debate about who got to go first was averted when Hiravias pulled out the small pouch with his Kith’s Grace game tiles.

“Everyone pick a tile; low number first, high number last.” He bounced the bag slightly in his palm to mix things a bit more. “Sound fair?”

They all shrugged agreement(Tavi certainly couldn’t think of anything better) and one by one reached in to pull out an etched bone tile. Tavi, of course, drew fifteen.

Fuckin’ highest number in the fuckin’ game, she sulked to herself as she plunked on the foot of her bed with an irritated huff. She watched through narrowed eyes as Kana--lucky bastard--gathered a change of clothes and ducked into the curtained alcove first.

Her bed shifted as Aloth sat next to her. “We could trade if you like.” He held up his tile pinned between two fingers, the four etched into its surface half-hidden. “I’m supposed to be next.”

Tavi thought about it briefly, but shook her head. “Sweet of you to offer, city slicker, an’ it’s real temptin’, but I’ll pass.” She grinned playfully as she smudged dirt off his forehead. “You prob’ly need it more than I do, anyway.”

Aloth looked at her with one eyebrow raised. “I’m making an effort not to be insulted,” he said mildly, smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

Tavi giggled. “Not what I meant. You lot all have, what, a day’s worth of workin’ on that fuckin’ tunnel on me, so you’ll all appreciate it more.” She smirked.  “’Sides, if I go last, I can take as long as I fuckin’ want.”

“Ah, the truth comes out,” Aloth said dryly, leaning over to pick crumbled clay out of her hair. “Rather devious of you, l- Tavi.”

Her smirk widened at his near-slip, and she leaned close to whisper, “Isn’t that one of the reasons you love me?”

His expression when she sat back said she was right.

>><><<

It was hard, but Tavi did manage to wait semi-patiently for everyone else to finish before finally, finally getting her turn. And it was every bit as worth it as she’d been hoping. She actually had to bite her lip to keep from moaning in pleasure as she sank into the tub and the water covered her tired, aching body to the neck. She balled up her discarded shirt and used it as a pillow so she could lean against the rim of the tub.

As if they’d been waiting for her to have a moment relatively alone to stop niggling the back of her mind and get some proper attention, two little words charged to the forefront: What now?

Now everyone leaves, sprang up unbidden, and Tavi almost let out a wry laugh. For once she wouldn’t be the one doing the leaving. She knew Sagani would want to go home--couldn’t blame her--Pallegina and Kana had reasons to head back to their respective countries, most of the others had no reason to leave, but didn’t have any reason to stay, either. Aloth and Edér might stick around for awhile, both of which made her happy, if for entirely different reasons.

Smiling at the thought, Tavi took a breath and ducked her head under the water’s surface, working her fingers through her hair to dislodge any stubborn dirt of debris. Her lungs were just starting to burn when she resurfaced and shoved her hair back out of her face. She rolled her shoulders as a trickle of water ran down her spine.

Worryin’ about that can wait for later, she decided. Who’s stayin’, who’s leavin’ and when... I can think about that after we get back to Caed Nua. For now I’m gonna enjoy myself. And with that, she sank back into he water up to her chin, soaking in the warmth until it was gone.

>><><<

Durance was already gone when they made it back to Caed Nua. Tavi was neither surprised not hurt by this fact. She and the priest hadn’t spoken much, and usually disagreed when they did; it was hardly a shock when Edér told her Durance had left only a day or two after she defeated Thaos. He’d cited a vision from Magran that his path led elsewhere now, but if Tavi was honest, she didn’t really care. She was just glad he was gone.

Sagani only stayed a couple more days before heading back to Massuk, her homesickness and restlessness so obvious the few times Tavi saw her between dealing with the backlog of “official business”, she was on the verge of telling her to go home. Sure, Tavi would miss her, but Sagani had a husband and children she hadn’t seen in five years. So they said goodbye, promised to write(neither sure how easy that would be to keep), and Sagani set off for Massuk, Itumaak beside her.

One by one, over the few weeks, the others left as well, until--just as Tavi predicted--Edér and Aloth were the only ones still around. Kana was the last to leave and the hardest to watch go. He reminded Tavi of her brothers--all three, in different ways--and his departure was the faintest echo of losing someone again.

“Are you... alright?” Aloth asked cautiously as he joined her on the battlements, as if worried he’d offend her with the question.

Tavi nodded, still staring at the road where Kana had passed out of view. “I’ve lost enough brothers in my life... least that one can still write occasionally.”

“I know you’ll miss him,” Aloth said quietly, leaning against the wall next to her, not at all deceived by her glib comment. “You two forged quite a friendship.”

“Yeah, isn’t it amazin’ how close you get when you’re savin’ the fuckin’ world?” Tavi said wryly. “But it does make me wonder...” She slid her hand closer until their fingers brushed. “how long do I have ‘fore I lose you, too?”

He gave a small hum of understanding and covered her hand with his. “Oh, quite a while, I imagine. A couple more months, at least.”

She raised an eyebrow and turned, cold stone digging into her hip as she faced him. “Really?”

Aloth mirrored her pose. “Really.”

Tavi snorted. “Shit, I figured with this big, important mission you gave yourself of dismantlin’ the Leaden Key, you wouldn’t have many reasons to stay.”

“I don’t need ‘many reasons’, Tavi,” Aloth said, half-smiling. “Just one good one.”

“City slicker-”

“I am, of course, referring to the Brighthollow library-”

“You ass!”Tavi whacked his shoulder with the back of her hand, unable to completely suppress a laugh.

“-ow--since it’s one of the most robust collections of books in the Dyrwood,” he finished, completely deadpan save the teasing glint in his eyes.

“Ah, so you only love me for my books, s’that it, Corfiser?”

“I love you for many reasons,” Aloth chuckled, pulling her close enough to wrap one arm around her shoulders. “And the books are very near the bottom of the list.”

“Heh,” Tavi grunted, sidling in close to wrap her arm around his waist. “’Preciate that.”

The two of them settled into companionable silence as they watched the sun slowly set, and Tavi silently reflected that whatever was coming next, she had every reason to believe they were ready for it.