my name is mollymauk, molly to my friends. he remembers the first time he had heard those words. a kind dragonborn had read it, pointing at the tiefling as he did. i think that’s your name, son he had said. he read the other names. caleb, nott, fjord, jester, beau & yasha. he stared at the name yasha for a long time before reclaiming the note & putting it back in his shirt. the dragonborn had warned him about the gentleman. told him the mighty nein must have liked him enough to call him friend & then waved to him as he dropped mollymauk off the side of the road leading to zadash.
and now he’s here. his fingers fumble with the needle at the memories & molly blinks. he takes a steadying breath & continues. pushes the needle through the dark blue fabric. he remembers this. from before. molly’s tail twitches & he looks over at yasha across the fire.
❛ who did i learn this from ? ❜ he asks quietly, shoulders a tense arc. it’s still ... difficult being around them. he doesn’t know the mighty nein. not like he knows the dragonborn or the group of wary merchants that had picked him up & then disappeared the next morning as he slept. not like yasha. the vision of death he had met briefly on the road, a lumbering figures around her & an unsettling aura. it’s hard to look at the person pressing flowers into a book & not see that. ❛ everyone had said you knew me best. ❜
back from the dead / @broughtflowers
