Those Left Behind
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Summary
No one liked to talk about it, what it meant that some of Faerun's peoples lived seven times more than others, or even more besides. No one liked to talk about death before it came, after all, and so, if you were the one that was fated to walk ever onwards as your mayfly-friends vanished from your side, you did not talk about it. You tried not to think about it. You tried to eke out the time you were granted, knowing all the while it would never be enough.
But gods above, she had hoped for a little more than this. Months, years, decades; short to her but some time at least. Not enough, never enough, but some. Instead, she had had only weeks, days, scarce hours and minutes, and then the mayfly that held her heart fluttered its Weave'd wings and was gone forever from her sight.
Series
- Part 1 of Those Left Behind
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Summary
Time slips through her fingers. Friends are born, friends die, and still she is there, pieces of her torn out with every ephemeral spark that blazed and then left her to continue onwards. It is easier to forget. How does one remember the good times, when time has worn away the faces that smiled and the voices that laughed? It is easier, simpler, to allow it all to fade into the void of centuries. The void, at least, does not cut quite so deep as grief.
Or, time does not heal all wounds, especially not when the wounds are as long-lived as the elf that carries them. Few can understand what it means to face centuries without those one cared for; fewer still would seek to care even so. It takes one of the latter to pull an elf drowning in the river of time from the waters of lost memories.
Series
- Part 2 of Those Left Behind