Discover Top Posts Tagged with #about to

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"just met a boy, as sweet as our berries

fast as the river, and gone just as quick

he said he'd wait but i'm so damn impatient

i just couldn't take it, the distance that is.

i up, ran, and left him with hopes that he'd chase

but when i looped back, she had taken my place."

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#whimsical #whimsigoth #whimsigothic #whimsigothaesthetic #whimsy #whimsycore #whimsigoth room #moon and stars #black cat #about to #daddy's good girl #my way into some pussy/dick #so pretty excited for that

My DM is absolutely destroying me with our DnD adventure right now so excuse me as I absolutely must get this off my chest.

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“Go. Get your armor and go. You need to go fight and die for this person, then that’s your choice.” Itrian started to sob, “Damn you, you stubborn, old elf.”

Hearing Itrians favored choices of affectionate nicknames wept at her was nearly too much to bear. Aureth shuddered, aching to make it right. The dim magic light was enough to make out his shuddering breathes, his trembling hands, the glassy, distant look in his once bright eyes.

Mercifully he turned away, gently plodding to a door which led to the study and shut it. He left without looking back. He did not see her step after him. He did not see her outstretched hand, or how his name had caught in her throat.

He had left her to the choices she made.

As her arm slowly dropped, Aureth caught sight of it. The wicked bruising from chains, the ash and soot of an attempt on her life… She’d suffer the afternoon a hundred times to avoid this. But it was her choice that led to it.

This was her fault.

Hesitantly, she drifted to her armor and shield. Cast aside days ago once they had arrived in the East. Unneeded for negotiations. A weight she had been happy to not bear, if only for a brief time.

Laying a mangled hand on the shield, she traced its gilded heraldry with her three fingers. The symbol did not evoke the same warmth she might have once felt. No pride in bearing it. No feeling of righteousness. She watched her God attempt to butcher a piece of her. And without hesitation, she had struck it down.

Where did that leave her? No faithful servant, no paladin, no knight… Another failure.

A vicious scowl tugged at Aureths lips. How long had it been since she had managed to protect anyone? Do something right? Failure after failure. Friend after friend lost because she wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, or worse, dying for her. Now she’d struck down a god and had what to show for it?

The only person she ever remembered loving had walked away.

If Aureth chased him, an innocent woman would die that night.

If Aureth left, a piece of her would die regardless.

Shakily, she inhaled. She took in the dim bedroom. She took in the faint scent of Itrian, his scattered clothes, the faded blue cloak left hanging near the door. She looked to his pack, his dirt-covered boots, his pipe.

One last look. One last memory.

Numbly, she began pulling on her chainmail.

It was cruel, in a way. They had met as guards. She had offered the town her services. She had wanted to help, who was a small village garrison to turn away the help of a veteran? Even if she’d fought for the wrong side, eventually they relented. She had more than enough years to wear them down. Aureth had devoured her work. She wanted so badly to make right, to atone for the black inky past she didn’t even know.

The nightmares were enough to convey her guilt. They filled the gaps. They filled her ears with screams and blood, with metal and magic. How many sleepless nights, how many terror-filled awakenings, would it take to show her how guilty she was. She still had not found out. Still, they found her even now. Still, the past lurked like a serpent in her mind, urging her onwards and away from it.

That desperate want to do better, to be better, had dropped them at each other’s door.

And now it seemed, it was time to pull them apart.

With the practiced efficiency of hundreds of years, Aureth finished donning the assorted bits of armor. Pieces, bits collected ramshackle over their adventure. Her shield, the only piece of note, the one thing that had always felt easy and natural in her hands finally seemed to weigh heavy in her grasp.

Searching in her own bag, she pulled at a piece of parchment. There was nothing she could say to make it right. Itrian deserved better than this. Than her. All she could do was all she had ever done; tell him the truth and hope it was enough.

‘I love you.’

With shaking hands, Aureth pushed the piece of parchment under the door. Turning to leave, she hesitated. A moment. A breath. A heartbeat.

But no sound came from behind her.

And Aureth left into the night.

#I'm #about to #OPENLY WEEP #aureth #itrian #dnd #dnd characters #dnd shenanigans #writing #elf #paladin #knight