Plotted starter for @brokenwingsofdeath
Whispering mirrors ought to be avoided, especially one in a Sharran enclave. Yet Finn found his feet carrying him towards it, as if drawn in by the murmuring whispers.
He spared a glance back at his companions. Most of them were clustered around Shadowheart, speaking quietly with her after the decision she'd made regarding her parents. A few were guiding her away, none of them noticing where Finn had wandered off to. It wasn't unusual for the rogue-turned-bard to drift, to sift through pockets or poke around to see what he might find.
His own pockets were still a little light after his donation to Ilmater. Or rather, his donation to the refugee camp, it was his way of paying his respects to his god.
Gold was always useful, especially with the extortionate fees they so often faced. But gold was the last thing on Finn's mind as he stood before the dark mirror. Calling it a mirror didn't quite feel right; it offered no reflection. At first, at least. The darkness seemed to drink in all light, leaving only the faintest hint of smoke swirling beneath the glass.
The longer he stared, the more that darkness thinned, as though the whispers were guiding the smoke into shape. He couldn't make out the words at first… until finally he could hear them properly.
'Think of your most precious memory…'
That wasn't difficult. Anything tied to the person who had changed his life for the better. The man who taught him the guitar, acceptance, how to love himself and another.
Everything about him rose to the surface, as if drawn straight from Finn's chest. He smiled as memories spilled forth: their shared adventures, quiet evenings beneath the stars, sitting by the fire while playing guitar and humming softly. Sharing wine, gossiping, teasing each other. Fighting side by side. Sleeping tangled together in a nest of pillows.
Every moment was precious, until…
Strange. It felt as though the connection to the mirror had been severed. A warm hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him back, and his mind went blank for a heartbeat before--
"Finn, get away from that."
He couldn't tell whose voice had called out, only that the mirror suddenly felt… wrong.
So Finn walked away without looking back, rejoining the remnants of the group as they gathered themselves. His gaze caught on a new face among them. A surprise, but considering the carnage required to reach this far into the enclave, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Perhaps they'd picked up a companion along the way.
Either way, everyone seemed to like the newcomer well enough. Finn figured he should too, offering a greeting as they began to ascend the steps.
"Hey, didn't get to properly meet you with all of that fighting and shit. Call me Finn, what do I call you?"
