Olivier remembered a lot of things about Finnigan Wyman.
She remembered his positivity, the day they went to the market and he bought her food, the time he made fajitas just before a mission, the day she saw him flustered with Iolrath in the Stormwind tavern. She remembered his radio playing during the search for the keystone, his scream when Krath’ul revealed himself, and the angry look in his eyes when he took her to the study and verbally unleashed his anger on her.
But most of all, Olivier remembered Finn’s smile.
The mage sank deep into a hot bath the night the paladin died, bubbles surrounding her form and concealing her form. A bottle of summer ale and a bowl of soup sat untouched at the edge of the tub, gifts from her mate who she knew cared. But she hated him seeing her like this. She was weak, and she hated it. But how could she possibly be anything else? Her thoughts drifted back to the words she’d uttered in a broken voice just after stepping inside the house and sinking to the floor.
He was my best friend.
And as much as Olivier wanted to sleep the entire month away, she knew he deserved better than a moping mage who hadn’t even figured out how he died. Thoughts of revenge settled into her mind, but the anger wasn’t nearly comparable to the grief that tore at her heart. Loss was a foreign concept for her; she’d never lost someone close to her, let alone watched them die just before her eyes. She didn’t know how long it would take to get over it. Maybe she never would.
By some miraculous stroke of motivation, she found herself in Seastone the next day, wandering into the barracks to collect her supplies with the intention of returning to Northshire, or at least seeking out Kyrianna and giving her a piece of her mind.
But as she saw the familiar brimmed hat on her bunk, every angry thought drained from her mind and she crossed the room quickly, snatching up the item. She heard a faint chirp from Zuku as the bird shuffled back and forth along the top bunk, wings spreading slightly as if he was about to jump. Olivier’s fingers curled around the edge of the leather and she lowered her head, fighting tears once more. She’d thought she had let everything out last night, but that was very obviously not the case. As tears blurred her vision, it occurred to Olivier that Finn might have purposefully left it there.
Had he.. known?
Her face paled as she remembered him telling her to get inside, and she remembered fighting him over something so petty. She didn’t want to go back inside in case the darkness returned, and outside was so much more peaceful. She had no idea that something still lurked beyond. It had all been over, or so she thought. It was only then that she felt a familiar emotion strike her like a tidal wave: guilt.
My fault. My fault. My fault.
“No,” she whispered to herself as the shame clawed at her. “You didn’t know. He could have told you what he meant instead of being vague. You were only trying to help.”
But I could have just gone inside.
A soft sound startled her and she slowly lowered her hands, gaze drawn to Finn’s bunk where Rath sat against the wall, gnawing quietly on a piece of what might have been leather. Her face fell as she recognized the podling clearly. She had no idea how to take care of him, but Finn.. Finn was dead. Someone would have to take care of the creature.
Olivier sniffed, reaching up to wipe her eyes, then placed the brimmed hat atop her head, her hair cascading in front of her shoulders as she carefully sat down on the edge of the paladin’s bunk, staring out at the other end of the room. Along with the grief and the guilt was loads and loads of regret, thoughts of what she could have done to be a better friend. Finnigan had been so bright, so positive, even when he might not have truly felt the emotion. He’d been nothing but kind to her. He didn’t deserve this.
The anger began to boil up in the mage again as she glowered at the ceiling, her hands balling into fists. No, Finn hadn’t deserved to die. But she was going to avenge him, no matter what. And though she couldn’t feel it, a new power began to crackle from deep within her core.
Clarke and Bellamy should really get together... I mean everyone else is dead sooo..? guess heuh have to dooo. Who cares that there's no chemistry.. He's tall.. He's soft.. He can hold and shoot a gun.. He slept with half of t100 so he's experienced.. Perfect plan Z... See it could work.. Go get em Bell!
things raven and clarke have in common: bi space girls, dads are dead, dated finn (also dead), dealing with their emotions????, everyone they love dies, happiness????
Finn is dead. Clarke killed him. I don't feel sad he's dead... Maybe I am, a bit. But you know he's dead so there's a bigger chance for Clarke and Bellamy to be be together <333333
