#I used to be able to write so MUCH what HAPPENEDDDDD

[brightwaterforarainyday]

TBRTI and poem pieces please?? 🤩🤲

Hiiii!!! Thank you!! The Bodys' Return to Itself is another Deadfire Pillars fic, set on The Godhammer after one of the many times Berath yanks Elehal's soul out of his body to have a Little Chat. It's kind of about bodies and the shapes of them and a kind of about Aloth being a good but very concerned boyfriend and kind of about Elehal being very tired. Some day I'll figure out how I want to end it. I will.

Poem Pieces is what it sounds like! Its where I throw all the bits and, well, pieces that might be poems or parts of poems someday or that I just think sound neat.

((this is gonna be a longer one heads up lmao))

......

“...Hey.” Aloth sighed in relief, briefly lowering his head to rest on the arm held around his knees before looking back at him. “Are you alright? What happened?” Something between worry and frustration furrowed his brow. “I found you on the floor when I came in…”

That explained how he’d gotten into bed at least. Somewhat. Elehal rolled onto his side, facing Aloth. He would have a kink in his neck later today, maybe tomorrow. It couldn’t be helped. “I’m fine.” Close enough to the truth. He’d get used to this, someday. “Really. Did you...?” He gestured loosely at the bed they were currently in.

A familiar half-smile crossed Aloth’s face. “Edér helped, a bit. You’re... heavy. What happened?” “The gods wanted a chat. Or an audience for their bickering.” He tried to shrug, managed about half of one with the shoulder he wasn’t laying on. You will mind upon whose ground you tread. My patience is not infinite, and your soul is but one breath in a hurricane that I control. He was going to have a real problem, at some point, if he kept pushing the gods this hard. Something he could deal with later. Aloth didn’t need yet another reason to worry about him.

“And... this is their idea of a polite invitation?”

“They have the decency to do it in private, at least. I really can’t be fainting in public any more than I do already.”

Aloth’s expression suggested he remained unconvinced that this was a courtesy. Little light came through the cabin’s windows. It was evening, or overcast. Elehal tried to remember if there had been clouds in the sky, earlier. There were lanterns though, two of them - no need to be frugal with lamp oil now. Their twin flames cast warm, golden light across Aloth’s face, left subtle, shimmering reflections in his hair. Elehal thought of portraits he had seen once, on a brief shore leave in the Vallian Republics. Perfectly, painstakingly rendered figures that seemed to glow from within, more beautiful even than they must have been in life.

Aloth sighed again, a tired sound, this time, a sound of resignation. He unwrapped his arm from around his knees and moved to lay down between Elehal and the cabin wall, also on his side, their faces turned towards each other, Elehal could stare into his eyes, see the glowing embers of his own reflected there. The bed hadn’t been built to accommodate two people, but Aloth was an elf, and slight of build. (And beautiful, like a man in a painting, shaped more perfectly by the artist's brush than flesh and bone should ever have been able to aspire to...)

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Everything turns and everything grows to be alive is to be in a state of flux any story can tell you that. We are not stationary objects a human being is not a noun it is a verb

The smoke clears and something within me Is stirring Something is waking up something in my soul stretches and remembers What it means to be awake and alive Staring through sun-silvered leaves at the wide, wild sky