He's Still Gone, I'm Still Here
So a Twitter friend of mine asked for a vignette of Keyleth dealing with the PTSD of her time in Vox Machina, and my mind kept going back to something that Matt had said and that Marisha had loved. And from that came this.
She lies in her bed, the massive furred form of Trinket curled up around her, protecting her as though she were one of his cubs. She can still hear the songs of the people of Vasselheim outside her window, singing of victory and gratitude. But she still feels the cold, still feels the emptiness.
He's still gone. I'm still here.
She lies in her bed, too exhausted to wash away the dust and blood from her foray into Pandemonium. She can still the voice of an elven woman in the back of her mind, talking of loss and comfort and pain. And still she feels the cold, still feels the emptiness.
He's still gone. I'm still here.
She lies in her bed, her eyes fixed upon the massive cherry blossom tree that stands in the distance. She remembers the slight weight of a raven on her shoulder, its cool feathers beneath her fingers, its beak against her cheek. And still she feels the cold, still feels the emptiness.
He's still gone. I'm still here.
She lies in her bed, the covers pulled tightly over her head, though she can still smell the warm, salt-kissed sea breeze of Shamal Bay outside, still hear the soft susurring of the waves against the shore. She can still hear that voice, that beloved, beautiful voice, so warm against her ear as her own words failed her. So many things she wanted to say, and so few moments to say them. And still she feels the cold, still feels the emptiness.
He's still gone. I'm still here.
Days and months and years laterā¦
She lies in her bed, guilt tearing her in two, the warring emotions of joy and love and grief and anger and regret and frustration burning the tears from her eyes. She can still hear her mother's voice, not just a memory anymore but real, but deep, deep down, she wishes it had been someone else coming through that tree, running to her, arms outstretched, pulling her close. And still she feels the cold, still feels the emptiness.
He's still gone. I'm still here.
She lies in her bed, eyes and nose red from crying, the taste of too much ale in her mouth from celebrating the completion of the Crisis Orbs and the Widow's Garden and the Snowdrop Memorial Trail. She can still hear Percy and Vex's speeches, and then afterward, in private, their shared grief and mourning. And still she feels the cold, still feels the emptiness.
He's still gone. I'm still here.
And another year laterā¦
She lies in her bed, wounded and exhausted beyond all imagining after the attack, the smell of blood and death and rage still simmering in the air like heat above the desert. She can still hear the cries and wails and chants and prayers from outside as soul after Ashari soul are sung to the afterlife, but she also can still hear, whether real or just her imagination, the sound of feathered wings rushing just behind her, out of sight. And still she feels the cold, still feels the emptiness.
He's still gone. I'm still here.
She lies in her bed, battered, poisoned, clinging to life, though whether out of a desire to live or a refusal to die or sheer spite against Ludinus Da'leth and Otohan Thull and Liliana Temult, she cannot say. She can hear the anxious whispers of her retainers, of the herbalists, of the Master of Defense marshalling the Tempest Blades, but even louder in her ears, drowning out all else, she hears an agonized scream that echoes unrelentingly in her memory. And still she feels the cold, still feels the emptiness.
He's still gone. I'm still here.
She lies in her bed, the massive furred form of Trinket curled up around her, protecting her as though she were one of his cubs. She can still hear the songs of the people of Vasselheim outside her window, singing of hope and of faith. But now she feels the cold turn to fire, feels the emptiness filled by a singular, all-consuming, all-encompassing purpose, and a familiar rage that burns hotter than the sun.
He's... he's... I'm still here. I'm still here. I'm still here I'm still here I'mstillhereI'mstillhereI'mstillhere...
snowghoul
origamiaround
yousharknotpass
kianamaiart
blakekathryn
titsay
areudirty
