After every session, I update this chart. This is the latest as of 10/14/19.
Only Dee, Vee, Lo, Pat, and Ro are player characters. The rest are ally and enemy NPCS.
The old man is an all knowing, forth wall breaking dude named Plot Mcgee. The hot tiefling is an NPC named Jeff. And Melinda is an evil witch who wants to murder Logan and Remy (and probably the rest of us too).
The dotted lines means things are unclear either between the characters or between players.
This is the story of the catalyst that sent Patton out into the world, where he found his new fam-ILY. It is long, unbeta’d, and angsty. Please note the warnings, as I am very worried at all times about upsetting people. I have never posted anything really before, so I don’t know what all might need to be tagged, so I’m going overboard. Let me know if you see something else you’d like a warning for.
Content warnings, onscreen: frequent mentions of blood, non-graphic mentions a ‘friend’ being an asshole, hints at depression and negative thinking
Offscreen: suicide, arson, people being treated very poorly in a prison-esque place
Words: 6758
Patton skipped through the streets, grinning at anyone he happened to make eye contact with. The time he’d spent in Lliira’s temple, his home away from home, before his shopping trip hadn’t been enough to make this bearable.
Ordinarily, he would make more of an effort to greet everyone and catch up when he went out for supplies, but today he was looking forward to getting home. Today, he skipped home a little more stiffly, his purchases clutched to his chest, determined not to seem bothered. His smile was tight, and didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he had no intention of loitering long enough for anyone to notice.
He usually looked forward to the small talk. He took pleasure in the simplicity of the mindless how’ve-you-been, how’s-the-family, how-about-the-weather chatter. It was a bit more… Silent, at home; and while he understood it was what Mitchell needed, it was very far from what Patton preferred.
When they’d lived with the others, there was always background noise. There was always someone a few homes away singing, or praying, or hollering for the family to come in for dinner, or playing games.
After they’d moved to the other side of the valley, he’d taken to talking to himself under his breath. Sometimes he just danced to Lliira, on the tips of his toes to avoid being too noisy.
The small talk with the others was routine. Pleasant. He knew exactly what they were going to say, and took an odd sort of pride in seeming open and friendly with his answers without giving too much away.
Yes, they were doing fine- no thanks to that weather last week; have you ever seen such a storm at this time of year! Yes, Mitchell was as stubborn as ever about outings- had he mentioned, they probably won’t make it to dinner Saturday night, but thanks very much for asking! No, they didn’t need any help right now, but he would certainly reach out if anything changed.
Patton knew they were only trying to help, to rebuild the connections that used to be there, but Mitchell certainly didn’t want their help, and today he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. He honestly did not know if he could be interested in whatever they were doing day-to-day, to listen intently to someone’s account of doing their laundry.
In particular, he really was not in the mood to overhear the elders gossip about what a pity it was that they’d moved, that he didn’t have a family- nevermind how often he told them that he did, that Mitchell was his family, that they were all they needed.
They meant well. Their gossip stemmed from a legitimate worry that he and Mitchell were secluding themselves- which they were- out of grief for their parents- which they were not.
He was proud of his parents, and would never regret their willingness to risk their lives to help others. Mitchell just… needed space from other people. It was only the bonding they’d done over their parents that allowed Patton to come with him.
Now well past the market, Patton allowed himself to drop the pretense of Happy Pappy Patton. Following the Goddess of Joy did not make him as permanently happy as people seemed to assume.
He gave himself a moment to sigh, slouching slightly as he abandoned his normally perky posture. Setting his groceries down at his feet briefly, he rubbed his eyes harshly, blinking away the stars after. He reached down for his bags-
And froze. He had stopped moving before he even registered why; instinct beating out his rationalization. Footsteps, moving through leaves. Too big to be a halfling, but irregular, as if dragging something behind them. Nothing ever came out this way, so it wasn’t from here. And whatever it was, it was coming towards him.
Patton reached nervously for his staff, ready to defend himself, but it wasn’t there. He had left it at home, had never needed it on this trip before, had wanted his hands free for more groceries.
He took a step forward, towards the noise, and held his hands up in weak fists. Maybe if he looked ready to fight, they would leave? Anything that much larger than him and injured would likely lash out without warning.
He hated conflict of any kind, and Lliira was against violence, so he had never bothered to learn any offensive spells- not that that mattered, not with his staff at home, useless. Combat had been right out. Whatever was coming towards him maybe didn’t need to know that, though.
A Dragonborn burst through the trees ahead of him, stumbling to a stop when they realized they were no longer alone. They were breathing heavily, and Patton would normally attribute that to their having traveled for a while, if they weren’t also clutching their side, blood soaking their shirt.
The irregularity in their footsteps was also answered. The leg on the same side was turned out awkwardly, as though it had been twisted in the wrong direction and left there.
Patton’s fists immediately unfurled into placating hands, raising them up further.
“Hey there, kiddo,” he said, switching to Common. He spoke softly, hoping not to scare it. The Dragonborn was well over two times his height, and much more broad, but any creature that injured was likely to be wary of a stranger.
“My name is Patton. I’m an acolyte of Lliira, goddess of Joy, and you don’t look very joyful right now, pal. You look hurt; do you need help?”
The Dragonborn didn’t react. Maybe they weren’t familiar with Common? That would make helping them kind of difficult. Their scales were dull, and their face was deathly pale. They may not understand what he was saying, but they were running out of time to get medical attention before they were liable to lose consciousness, and there was no way Patton could carry them back home.
“Okay, bud; I know this is scary, but I need you to come home with me so I can help you, okay? I can heal you, but you have to come with me so I can use my staff. Without it, I don’t think I’ll be able to do enough to really help you.”
When they still didn’t acknowledge him, he took a breath, and reached out one of his hands very slowly, beckoning them forward.
“Please let me help you,” he begged. “I promise I won’t hurt you, and neither will anybody else. You’ll be safe. Please?”
The Dragonborn regarded him closely for a long moment, the sudden intensity of their gaze the only indication they’d heard him. They closed their eyes for a moment. Then, reopening them, they motioned slightly with the arm not holding their side, a small ‘after you’ gesture. Patton grinned in relief, and clapped his hands together.
“Oh, thank you!! Don’t you worry; we’ll get you fixed right up! You just follow me, okay?” Patton gathered up his groceries and led the way, his new friend shuffling along awkwardly behind him.
---
He was midway through a bit of a ramble about Lliira and how wonderful she was when they made it home. Patton went to usher them in, and abruptly stopped. Their ceiling was only just four feet tall. It was plenty of room for a halfling, but not nearly enough for a Dragonborn, even crawling. He turned to face them sheepishly.
“Sorry; the ceiling’s kinda low. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but halflings run kinda small! We’ve never had anyone as tall as you visit, so I didn’t even think about it! Just... wait right here; I need to get everything sorted first. Do you need anything in the meantime? Water, a blanket, a snack?”
The Dragonborn shook his head ever so slightly, eyes closed. They looked like they were focused on just staying upright. Patton raced inside, throwing his bags and cloak onto the kitchen counter. Mitchell didn’t seem to be home; there was no light coming from under his door.
Hesitating slightly, Patton decided to go with his gut and bring out some water and a loaf of bread. He wasn’t sure what the diet of a Dragonborn looked like, but surely anything would be helpful after bleeding out for gosh knows how long. His staff was just inside the door, so he grabbed it on the way back out.
His friend was leaning heavily against a tree, favoring their injured leg, and didn’t react to Patton’s return. Setting down the bread and water, he lifted his staff and quickly cast Mold Earth, shaping the dirt in front of his house into a sort of low bed, large enough for the Dragonborn to lay down, and still have room next to them for Patton to work.
Patton stepped forward carefully, one hand still holding his staff, the other reaching out to them.
“Hey, bud. I made you a bed, you see? Time to lay down now so I can work. Then we’ll get you fixed right up, okay?”
He waited for a response, but none came. If it weren’t for the shallow rise and fall of their chest, he’d fear the worst. He took a chance and moved closer, keeping his voice low.
“I'm right here, pal. I’m going to touch you, okay? I just need to get you lying down; I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself more while I’m working. I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to move over here, alright?”
Nothing. Praying that they wouldn’t fall on him, Patton gingerly reached out and grabbed their hand. He tugged slightly, testing. After a long, tense moment, they pushed themself away from the tree weakly, eyes still shut tight. Patton grinned.
“There you go, kiddo! Are you sure you’re not a follower of Lliira too? Because we’re called Joy-bringers, and you sure are bringing me joy right now! Just a little further. I made you a nice little dirt bed- gosh, that sounds ominous, doesn’t it? Like the set-up to a dirt nap. None of those, please!
“I hope it’s comfy enough; I’ve never made a bed before. I’ve made a few little tables before, if I needed to set something down, but that’s about it as far as furniture. I do make bridges sometimes, if I’m trying to get over something big.” He paused. "Well, big compared to me."
Patton helped them stagger to the makeshift bed, and eased them onto it. Once they were settled, he took a deep breath, and lifted their shirt. Oh, dear. That was… not wonderful.
The severity of it had been hidden by fabric. He’d only really healed the occasional scrape and bump before. Every so often, he got called in to heal a fractured limb of some kind, but there were rarely visible effects, and nothing this gruesome. Wincing in sympathy, he squeezed his eyes shut and cast Cure Wounds.
Slowly but surely, the wound began to stitch itself back together. The blood stains remained, but at least it wasn’t actively bleeding anymore. It wasn’t perfect, and still looked a little raw, so he also threw in a Heal Wounds.
Thankfully, it didn’t look like there was any lasting damage, as far as Patton could tell. He let out a shaky breath, shook his head to clear it, and used another Cure Wounds on their leg.
“Well, that’s as much as I can do for you, kiddo. How do you feel? Better?”
The Dragonborn nodded ever so slightly, still out of it from the blood-loss and whatever else they’d been through. Patton patted their head gently, and brought them the bread and water.
“Now there’s something to be joyful about. Here’s a little something to settle your stomach. Let me know if you need anything else. I don’t know if you really like bread and water, but anything is better than nothing! You take small sips; I’ll be right back.”
Patton stepped back inside, taking a moment to rest his forehead on the doorway to the kitchen. That was a lot of magic, and a lot of stress, in a short period of time. He was going to need a nap after this. A long one.
Squaring his shoulders, he busied himself with collecting some rags and a bit more water to clean up the blood. Patton skipped back outside, carrying everything bundled in his arms. The water and bread still sat, untouched, on the bed next to the Dragonborn. Moving them to the side, he took a seat next to their hip.
“Now, I know you’re all fixed up, but you still look a little messy, so I’m going to get you all cleaned up, okay? I bet you’ll feel a lot better once you’re all clean. I’m going to take off your shirt, okay? Can you sit up a little for me?”
Without opening their eyes, they sat up slightly, yanking their shirt off roughly, before laying back down. They dropped it on the ground beside Patton, and rested their arm over their eyes. Even that much seemed to have winded them.
“Thanks, bud; but don’t overexert yourself, okay? You need to get your strength back. You really should have some water, at least, but for now you could probably use a long rest, huh?
“I’m still going to try and clean you up. Let me know if I’m hurting you any, okay? I’m not too used to cleaning scales, but I don’t want any blood getting stuck between them, you know?”
Patton waited for a refusal of some kind, but when it didn’t come, he set to work. Wetting one of the rags, he wiped gently over the worst areas. Hopefully, he could get most of it out of the way, and then go back to do the little crevices.
“It might distract you if you talked some. I wonder, can you tell me what happened? I know it’s none of my business, but you seem awfully far from home, and I’ve got to say that I am curious as to how you ended up so hurt. It’s okay if you can’t tell me, or if talking is too much right now; I just figured it’d be a good starting place.
“Besides, talking about bad things helps them feel less big, in my experience, and I’m a really good listener! You could start with your name if you wanted. Otherwise, I can just keep calling you my kiddo. Again, if you want to, that is. No pressure, sport. As you can probably tell, I’m more than capable of talking enough for the both of us!”
There was a long pause where Patton worked in silence. That was fine; he knew not everyone liked talking, especially to strangers. He’d give them another minute or two to decide if they wanted to talk, and if not, he’d find something to talk about.
Most of the newer blood was gone by now, leaving only the uncomfortable dried bits, when the Dragonborn spoke. Their voice was low and quiet, rumbling in their chest like thunder.
“My name is Camxakasendalor Ellionn. You may call me Ellionn.”
Patton squealed in excitement, alarming Ellionn so much that they lifted their arm up and stared at him in concern. He blushed.
“Sorry kiddo; I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just excited. I really like your name! It makes me really happy you were comfortable telling me!!”
“It is the least I could do, given your kindness. As for the source of my injuries...”
“Aw, shucks, Ellionn! You don’t owe me anything; I’m just happy to help! I just figured I’d ask, if you wanted to tell me.”
“I disagree, but I appreciate the sentiment. My injuries are the result of a decades-old decision."
"Decades? That looked awfully fresh for something that old, kiddo."
"You misunderstand me, although I do understand your confusion."
Ellionn paused to shift uncomfortably. They were, ostensibly, healed, but the area was likely still tender.
"I used to work as a sort of prison guard, for someone I had never met. I answered to an elf, who took joy in being rude and cruel. I kept watch over those that my employer deemed dangerous, or guilty, and the elf kept watch over me. I was told these were people who had committed a legitimate crime. I was happy to stand guard until they were set to stand trial."
Patton sat down next to their bed, sensing that this might be a long story. Ellionn had seemed hesitant to start, but now the words were pouring out.
"I found out after having worked there for ten years that, while some were legitimate criminals, many of those I had kept captive were merely people who my employer held a grudge against, or wished to get rid of quietly. None of his personal enemies ever stood trial. They stayed in their cells for years, decades, before being dragged away.
"When I discovered what I had been apart of, I demanded to see my employer, to know what right he had to condemn those he disliked. I was told that, if I had such strong feelings about it, I could see him personally- as one of his prisoners. I knew it would do no good if I were also imprisoned, so I held my tongue.
“A few weeks later, a high-priority group came in. They were under very high supervision, at all times, despite being too small to pose a physical threat. They were fed rarely, and treated worse than the prisoners who had committed actual crimes.
“I got myself transferred to their guard, and slowly earned their trust. I warned the prisoners to begin saving some of the few food scraps they were given, and get used to sleeping during the day. They were there for years; four of them, packed into a small cell.
The other guard fell asleep at his post one day. I took the opportunity. I let them escape. I waited until they were far enough away, then sounded the alarm. They were never found. I knew those in charge were suspicious of me, so I had to play the part a while longer. I stayed for another year, biding my time, then left. They took my departure as proof of my guilt. Powerful men like that do not forget slights, so I have been on the run since.
“They found me today. I lost them about an hour before you found me.”
Ellion let out a deep sigh and laid his head back, out of breath from his story. Patton could feel his mouth hanging open slightly, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Goodness, how brave they must be! How strong! He ought to thank Lliira for his new friend; someone so kind must bring a lot of joy. He took a breath to say as much, but Ellionn beat him to it.
“Forgive me, but I feel a bit tired. I think it would benefit me if I slept for awhile.”
“Oh, of course!” Patton scrambled to his feet, gathering everything up, including their rather mangled shirt. He left behind the water and bread, in case they needed it.
“Just holler if you need anything, bud! I’ll be just in here. I still have to put away my groceries, after all! Sweet dreams!”
Patton made his way inside, careful to leave the door open in case Ellionn tried to call for him. He leaned his staff against the wall again. Rolling up his sleeves, he set to work cleaning everything up, including himself.
Apparently, it was hard to clean up a significant amount of blood without also getting covered in blood.
When everything was clean and put away again, he snuck a peek at Ellionn. Out like a light. Their being shirtless gave Patton an idea. Another glance at their old shirt, stiff with blood and torn right through, solidified it.
He grabbed an old blanket they didn’t use anymore, along with a needle and thread. Nothing of Patton’s or Mitchell’s would ever fit a Dragonborn, but maybe he could put together a new shirt for his new friend. At least they wouldn’t be covered in dried blood anymore. Nothing brings more joy than finally feeling clean after feeling icky for a while!
He sketched out a rough shape, making it a little bigger than he thought necessary, just in case. He cut out the pieces carefully, and sewed them together.
It was a bit rough, since he didn’t know Ellionn’s measurements, but anything had to be better than nothing. In the midst of looking for some prettier thread, to do a design on the front, he heard a shout from outside. Abandoning his search, he rushed outside, grabbing his staff just in case. Mitchell was home- and he had a dagger to Ellionn’s throat.
“Mitchell; no!! He’s a friend!! I’m helping him!”
Patton ran over and tried to insert himself between them, staff held in front of him defensively. Ellionn made no attempt to move. They seemed eerily calm for the situation; their eyes leveled on Mitchell’s face.
One hand was still resting on their stomach, but the other was wrapped around the water pitcher Patton had given them. It looked as though they’d had some water, which was good, although being held at knifepoint probably didn’t help them feel any better.
Mitchell, to his credit, pulled back slightly, but his dagger remained at the ready.
“Your friend? Patton, if you’ve known this thing for more than an hour, I’ll eat my own shirt,” he scoffed.
Patton shuffled uncomfortably. “They’re not a thing, kiddo. And just because we haven’t known each other long doesn’t mean we’re not friends. They were hurt, they needed help, and I helped them. That means we’re friends now. Right?”
He turned, looking earnestly at the Dragonborn. Their eyes, previously locked onto Mitchell’s dagger, flickered over to meet Patton’s. After a moment, they nodded, before looking quickly back to the knife. Patton beamed, turning back to Mitchell.
“You see? We’re friends; and I promised my friend they’d be safe with us! I would have brought them inside to be comfier, but I didn’t figure they’d fit all that well. We should look into getting a taller house, so we can have taller friends visit!”
Mitchell rolled his eyes, making no move to put away his dagger.
“Congratulations. You’re officially the most naive person I’ve ever met. You know this thing could just be tricking you, right? As soon as it’s better, it could kill us and steal all our crap.”
Patton frowned. “Mitchell, that’s not a very nice thing to say about someone you just met. In fact, you still haven’t met, because you’re too busy being mean! Introduce yourself properly, at least.”
“Why should I introduce myself to every random thing you bring home?”
“Because you are being extremely rude and judgmental, you’re still threatening them, and you’re calling a clearly sentient creature a ‘thing,’ which goes against the definition. Don’t you know that?”
Mitchell scowled, caught. If there was anything that would stop Mitchell in his tracks, it was questioning his knowledge. Patton continued, ignoring his sour expression.
“Ellionn, this is Mitchell. I told you about him on they way over, remember? Mitchell, this is Ellion Cam-xa-kas-en-dalor.” He sounded the name out slowly.
“That’s it, right?” Ellionn nodded, amused.
“Sorry; I just only heard it once, so I wasn’t sure. Since we’re doing introductions, my name is Patton Hugbringer, follower of Lliira, goddess of joy, happiness, dance, festivals, freedom, and all sorts of nice things, really! You already knew the Patton part, but I like my full name. Plus, I’m always happy to talk about Lliira. Nice to meet you, Ellionn!”
Patton grasped their hand gently and shook. Ellionn smiled at him faintly, then their face dropped.
“You.. your family name is Hugbringer?”
“Well, yeah! I think it fits; don’t you? Hugs sure do bring people a lot of joy!”
Ellionn seemed to be deep in thought, so Patton turned back to Mitchell, preparing to scold him further, when they spoke up again.
“Have you two parents, a male and a female?”
Patton froze, then forced himself to turn away for a moment. He could feel two sets of eyes burning into the back of his head- one concerned, one angry- but he refused to face them just yet.
Cleaning up would give him something to do, something that didn’t involve thinking about this. The pitcher. They’d already had some of the water. Surely, he could refill it by now.
“I did,” he answered finally. He laid his staff along the side of the bed and gathered up the pitcher, and the bread as well, as an afterthought. He hoped that would be the end of it, but of course not.
“Forgive me for intruding on a… clearly delicate subject, but… did your parents perhaps have friends who were called ‘Bookgatherer’?”
The water pitcher Patton had just picked up fell to the ground, splashing all over his feet. The bread bounced slightly, rolling away. He didn’t notice. He didn’t hear Mitchell yell, didn’t hear him immediately drill Ellionn for more information about their parents, didn’t hear Ellionn’s gentle concern for his sudden lack of response.
There was a sort of ringing in his ears. Did Ellionn know what had happened to their parents? Were they alive? Did he know why they left?
Slowly, he tuned back in, Mitchell’s increasingly frantic voice becoming more and more clear. He became aware of a hand on his arm- Ellionn’s, who was watching him carefully, and entirely ignoring Mitchell’s raving.
Silently, he raised one hand to Mitchell, signalling him to pause in his interrogation. He seemed ready to object, but an uncharacteristically sharp look from Patton silenced him.
“Bookgatherer is Mitchell’s family name. Did you… know our parents?”
Ellion’s face was stoney. “Do you recall the group of prisoners that I befriended, and let escape? The group of four who were too small to pose a threat?”
Patton pressed his hands against the dirt bed, needing some help to support himself. They were locked up in a cell? For that long? Who could they have upset so badly to be treated like that? Who was cruel enough to treat their parents like that?
Mitchell seemed ready to burst from frustration, so Patton quickly gave him a simplified version of Ellionn’s story.
“Okay, fine; so you’re a great person. Congratulations. Now where are our parents?”
“I don’t know,” said Ellionn, regretfully, “but I imagine that the same people who were looking for me are still looking for them, as well.”
“Do you know what they did? Why they were in there? Anything even remotely useful?”
“I am sorry, but I didn’t think to ask. I knew they didn’t deserve to be trapped there, so I was focused on getting them out. I do not know where they went after they left.” Ellionn looked as remorseful as they sounded.
Even as lost as he was, Patton couldn’t stand them being so upset. “No, it’s not your fault!! It’s not like you ever could have known this would happen! You already did a wonderful thing by letting them escape; there is no need for you to feel bad!”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” Mitchell sneered. Patton was worried about him. Sure, Mitchell had never been particularly… nice, or overly friendly. He didn’t always care as much as Patton did about other peoples’ feelings. But this? Being downright nasty to someone he’d never met before? This was new. And Patton didn’t like it. Before he could bring it up, though, Mitchell was speaking again.
“You said the people who were after you are also after them?”
“That is correct. By letting them go, I angered the same people they seem to have upset.”
“So, if I give you to these people, they’ll be able to bring me to whoever they work for?” Mitchell was pointedly not looking at Patton at this point.
Patton felt his blood run cold. “Mitchell. Kiddo, no; think about this for a second. Clearly, whoever these people are, they’re not nice. They locked our parents in a cell for years!! They would have killed them if Ellionn hadn’t let them out. What makes you think they won’t do the same to you?”
Mitchell rounded on him, clearly anticipating his argument.
“Just because you don’t care why our parents left us doesn’t mean I don’t. Your pal here broke a law. You’re just too stupid and naive to consider that maybe your family is more important than some felon. I think it’s perfectly reasonable to trade this thing for some information.” Patton recoiled, angry tears pricking at his eyes.
“There’s no way of knowing if they’ll even tell you the truth! What if they take you and Ellionn, and you still don’t learn anything? I can’t…” Patton trailed off, tears streaming. He wiped his eyes harshly, and started again.
“I won’t let you do this, kiddo.”
“For the millionth time, I’m older than you! You’re not a dad! And you’re too weak to even try to do anything to stop me. Keep it here while I go find whoever is searching for it.” With that, Mitchell turned and ran off, presumably to try and find the people who’d injured Ellionn.
Ellionn remained still, watching for Patton’s reaction. They seemed resigned, as if they were dreading his next move. Patton took a shaky breath, and picked up the items he’d dropped, seemingly unaware that he was still crying. When he did speak, it was low, emotionless.
“Can you run?”
Ellionn seemed startled. Whatever they had expected, this wasn’t it.
“Your friend seems determined to give me up. You intend to fight him on this? I was under the impression that you did not tend to disagree with him. Is he not your clan- your family?”
Patton screwed up his face against the fresh onslaught of tears. Ellionn waited patiently. When the feeling had passed, for the most part, he relaxed his face again. Still, though, he spoke in a quiet monotone.
“He is. He’s all I have left. But I can’t support this, and he knows that. He just doesn’t think I’ll do anything about it.”
“And what is it you intend to do?”
“Can you run,” Patton repeated, more urgently this time. There was no telling how long it would take Mitchell to find these people, but it was damn near certain he would find them. He was extremely adept at tracking, and a large, bleeding Dragonborn would have left a lot of traces to follow back. Ellionn searched his face for a moment. Whatever they found, it must have been enough. They nodded.
“I can run well enough. Your healing was extremely thorough.”
“Stand up then.” Patton grabbed his staff, and waited for Ellionn follow his instructions. Once they were standing, he dropped his Mold Earth, and let the dirt bed fall back to the ground.
“Wait here.” Patton headed into the house, and grabbed a handful of supplies. Water, some dried fruits, some bread. The shirt he’d made, although it looked like there wasn’t going to be time to make it pretty. The sharpened stick they used to cook sometimes. A blanket, in case it got cold. He bundled as much as he could in the blanket, and carried it out to Ellionn.
They’re still waiting for him outside, hovering uncomfortably. Patton handed them the shirt first, and waited for them to put it on before handing them the rest.
“Take these. I still don’t know what you eat, but anything is better than nothing. Water is always good. And I know you’re a grown boy, but even a sharp stick might keep them from getting too close, you know? Or if you need to get more food.
“Lay on the blanket at night, not under it. You’ll feel warmer if you’re not on the cold ground. Go in a straight line for a bit, to get some distance, but after that shake it up a little. It’ll make you harder to find.”
Ellionn patiently endured Patton’s fussing for a while longer, then stepped away gently.
“I should go. Your friend may be back soon, and I would like to be gone by then.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I just feel awful for putting you in this position, and Mitchell is so mad…”
Patton rushed forward and squeezed them in a short, fierce hug. Before he could pull away, he felt Ellionn wrap their arms around him carefully, returning the hug. When he did step back, he was moments from crying again.
“Okay, kiddo. Take care. Be safe, make good choices... I’m proud of you.”
Ellionn gave a small wave, then quickly made their way into the trees, heading in the opposite direction Mitchell had. They were out of sight a minute later, but Patton remained outside, staring after them, for much longer.
Eventually, he shook himself out of it, and headed inside to get rid of their old, bloodied shirt. There could be no evidence that Ellionn had even existed.
---
When Mitchell got back, Patton was sitting inside, staring at the wall, and showed no sign of having moved in quite a while.
“Where did it go,” he yelled, barging in. “You had one job, you idiot! I know you’ve got an issue with violence or whatever, but you can literally control dirt! You could have just buried it for a while until I got back!”
“They’re not an it. They’re a living person, who did nothing to you, and risked their life to help our parents. I told you I wouldn’t let you turn them in,” Patton said, monotonously. He made no effort to face Mitchell, but continued staring straight ahead.
“Wait. Did you actually let them leave?”
“I didn’t let them leave. I helped them leave. What you’re trying to do is wrong; I don’t care what your reason is. It’s cruel and unnecessary. I told you I wouldn’t let you do it. Even if it wasn’t cruel, I am a child of Lliira. She’s the goddess of joy, yes, but she’s also the goddess of freedom and liberty. I help people. I do not leave them to be thrown in jail for helping other people.”
Mitchell picked up the closest thing to him, the empty water pitcher, and threw it against the wall. It shattered easily, shards covering the floor.
“Are you fucking kidding me? We’ve been wondering for fucking decades where our parents were, why they left, what they were doing, and when we finally get a chance, you get rid of our one bargaining chip?? And are you forgetting your stupid friend is a wanted felon?? They ran away from their job! They let wanted criminals go! It is our legal duty to turn them in!”
Patton finally stood, eyes blazing.
“Those ‘wanted criminals’ were our parents! Do you care so much about finding out what they’re doing that you don’t care if it’s ‘rotting away?’ Are you so determined to find out where they are you’re willing for the answer to be a cell? Is that what your supposed ‘legal duty’ is worth to you?”
He’d never raised his voice before, and never to Mitchell, but he was screaming now.
“Yes, I let them go. I begged them to go. As a Joybringer and a kind person, I would rather let a hundred people go free than do something horrible just because it’s the law.”
Mitchell’s eyes went wide in shock, then narrowed.
“Are you so determined to do the ‘right thing’ that you’re willing to give up our only family?”
“You’re my family,” Patton cried, “at least you’re supposed to be! The least you could do is act like it! Why can’t you just accept that our parents did what they thought was right? They were willing to do something against the law to do the right thing, and you won’t even consider that maybe they had a point? What if they’re felons too? What if you find out they broke a thousand laws, just to do the right thing? Would you turn them in too? Even if it meant ruining their happiness? Their freedom?”
Mitchell stood and glared at him.
“You’re being idiotic; these things aren’t comparable. You’re so determined to be a good Joybringer for your little pacifist god? I’ll show you what I think of your ridiculous Lliira.”
He turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Patton, eyes blurry with tears for what felt like the hundredth time that night, shuffled his way to his room.
He collapsed onto his bed and sobbed- for Ellionn, for their parents, for Mitchell, for Lliira, for himself.
Tomorrow, he would get up, collect and dispose of the pieces of the now-broken pitcher Mitchell had thrown. Tomorrow, he would find Mitchell and make him see reason. They’d never seen eye-to-eye on anything that put goodness against the law before, but that hadn’t stopped them from being family, and Patton was sure they could reach an understanding.
Tomorrow, he’d deal with the aftermath. Tonight, though; tonight he cried.
---
When Patton went out to find Mitchell the next morning, he expected him to be at the temples. He did not expect to find him at Lliira’s temple.
He did not expect the temple to be nearly ashes, for it to have burned down overnight. The kindling and empty bottles of absinthe surrounding the entrance ruled out the possibility of an accident, but the abandoned bucket of water outside hinted at remorse.
He did not expect to find Mitchell within those ashes. What was left of him.
Mitchell, who he’d grown up with, and considered his only remaining family. Mitchell, who valued knowledge above all else. Mitchell, who, in a fit of rage, set fire to a place of worship and learning. Who, it appeared, upon being unable to undo the mistake, had decided to go down with the ship.
---
The elders gossiped for ages. How tragic, they said. What horrible thing could have lead him to make such a choice? What would lead him to leave his only supporter behind? They mourned, but they did not grieve. How could they? Patton had been their only link to Mitchell; he’d never interacted with them willingly.
Those they’d grown up with came by every day, at first, then less often, then gave up altogether, as they realized Patton was not going to answer. The pile of food and sympathy gifts outside remained untouched, the windows dark, the doors locked.
After a week, whispers started. They questioned whether Patton was alright. If he was still in the house. If he had followed Mitchell’s lead, as he always had. If they ought to go check, before it perhaps became so obvious that they’d never get the smell out of the house.
A small group went down together. The door was open, but the only things that had touched the food and presents were the animals. A quick look inside told them that the house had been abandoned, along with everything in it. Wherever he’d gone, he’d taken only his staff, the clothes on his back, and his mother’s necklace.
---
Ten years passed. Very little changed. Patton kept to the woods in that time, usually, only coming into the outskirts of town to get supplies. He sometimes casted Speak With Animals to make friends with whatever creatures he came across, if he was feeling particularly lonely.
He forced himself not to think of Mitchell, or Lliira. He no longer danced to her, or prayed. Even acknowledging her was a painful reminder. It got easier as the years went on, but there were nights when he couldn’t escape them.
One night, when his thoughts threatened to overwhelm him, he gave in and followed a loud, thumping bass to a nearby town. It didn’t seem to be very populated. There were a few stragglers loitering outside the bar, including an older man leaning against a tree who winked at him knowingly as he passed, but it looked like most everyone was inside having a nice, if chaotic, time.
He headed inside and made himself at home at one of the tables, making small talk. He’d probably leave soon and head back to the forest, but for now, he took advantage of the blaring music drowning out any negative thoughts.
