When your Light dims
This was a script to a comic I planned, but never drew. I uploaded it once on my RP Blog, which is no more. So I am uploading it here again since I did receive really nice feedback.
"When your light dims, I'll be waiting for you."
These were Gale's last words to her. He didn't even say it himself, but rather a leftover of life force in his corpse. It made her question, for the first time ever, if any of what the corpses said were true. Not that she doubted Gale, but those words were so bittersweet, she couldn't help but sob. The spell broke before even five questions were answered. Her arms were tight around Gale, her tears mixing with the blood in his robe while she felt her nose running, her voice cracking, getting a headache from the lack of breath.
It was hard to move on, hard to have one's future ripped from one's hand so badly, all the plans they had, all those things she couldn't tell him. On Jaheira's advice, she began to write letters to Gale he would never receive.
About them helping to rebuild Baldur's Gate, about her travels to Waterdeep and meeting his mother, about the many stories she told and wondered if her favorite wizard would be angry at his mother for telling her those, or if he would just slide embarrassed under the table. The scratches of Tara she deserved when hearing upon his fate.
But time passed, people got older. She noted down how Wyll was even in his old age truly the blade of the frontier and only accepted her help when he truly couldn't stand up anymore from his chair.
Gale, I bet you would have looked breathtaking with silver hair. Your little strands already were driving me almost crazy. I began counting them, just like you did with my freckles. I never finished though. It was a wonderful way to spend time in the quiet with you.
How she spent her adventuring time with Jaheira and the Harpers, always on a search for a cure or a way so Astarion could go back into the sun. Also, how Jaheira, just like Wyll, denied any help of her, but her children loved and cared under big nagging their mother to the end. How resilient could a woman be? Ceres was sure Jaheira would die on the battlefield just like Minsc, but she wasn't as reckless.
Tell me, Gale, did you ever want children? If yes, how would you name them? If not, how many dogs would I be allowed to adopt? And how would we name those? What about a Tressym family?
After she left the Harpers, she tried to meet with Shadowheart as often as she could.
Did you know she really got her little farm? It's so much more work than she anticipated, but she never looked so happy. And despite having a farm, she somehow managed to smell like the flowers from her garden.
You always smelled like a library. I loved it. I loved your scent so much. Do you remember how I stole your robe after you went into the river? I said it was for a prank, but I was too shy to admit that your scent alone made me feel like there was nothing but a happy end waiting for us."
But when Shadowheart showed her first wrinkles and gray strands, it was then that Ceres too noticed that she was getting older. It began with Astarion more often than not suggesting a break. The roads they managed to pass got shorter, to explore dungeons always included a long rest.
I heard of a spell called wish that could heal Astarion. Also, that one can use a divine favor to cure him. I am sure you knew that, didn't you? Astarion immediately dismissed the chance a god would help him. Who can blame him? In all those centuries, they never came to help us. I wonder, if I would have agreed with you to get the Crown of Karsus, would you be alive? Was I wrong to stop you? (I love you so much.)
The days get heavier, longer. Astarion suggested we should visit Halsin again in Reithwyn, haven't seen him for so long. I was really giddy at this suggestion. But were the roads always this bumpy? Or do they just build worse carriages over the centuries? Astarion said he didn't notice anything. It's hard to tell how old my body is, except when I look at my hands. I see wrinkles, I see veins, I think I got more freckles and your old count does not count anymore. When we meet, you have to start anew. Halsin got me immediately an own room. Despite being older than me, he still looks like on the first day. Maybe I should have become a druid too.
I still can't stop thinking about the spell to heal Astarion. I wonder if you need to be a chosen or a cleric for a divine favor. For sure, I did everything Eilistraee would be proud of me. I will try my luck. If she doesn't listen to one of Baldur's Gate's heroes, maybe at least Astarion found a home at Halsin's side.
My last days I spend with praying. My knees hurt, my limbs ache. I am at a point where I pray because I cannot get up anymore without the help of one of the people from Reithwyn. It makes me wonder, if Mystra had made you a chosen again, would you have stopped aging like Elminster one day? Would you be next to me, with long, silver hair, and help me up? Would you be the one, forced to watch me age, while you live eternally? Maybe what I am doing is for naught, but it's all I can do, while my body is too weak to even pass the city's border.
I cannot leave the bed, so I am reading all those letters I wrote to you, so I won't forget anything I wanted to tell you. But as my hands are shaking, writing this last letter to you, I know at least how to greet you. I will look into your wonderful, hazelnut eyes, and tell you...
...
..
.
