curunis
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SPOILERS ACT 3 BG3.
Partialism, the incomplete sublimation of a host's mind, was a story told to frighten young mind flayers. It was a myth unknown to the illithid that languished in a secret prison deep below Baldur's Gate, and yet it was its reality, too, a fractured consciousness that refused to perish in silence warring with an evolution that precluded its survival. The once-hero mind flayer's self-imposed sentence was a logical resolution to the problem, even if a former self might have considered it an unhappy one.
Angst through conversation and a touch of existentialism. First chapter is a standalone angst one-shot, later chapters are an optional continuation with a happier ending.
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Gale's past does not lie quiescent. First, it was his ill-fated choices that led to the orb, driving him from his tower and eventually into the grasp of the Absolute. Then, it was his once-mentor's simulacrum (and he would be having words with Elminster about that!), bidding him to die. And now, when he was steps away from letting everything come full circle and obeying Mystra's command, the past roared to life again. It did so in the form of a familiar face, one he had sent to its apparent demise with an off-hand Thunderwave before he had even looked at his foes. Gale has a thousand questions in his mind as he fights onwards at Moonrise Towers, and none of them are about his own fate.
In which Gale is not the only wizard, once of Waterdeep, captured by the Absolute, and in which his old friend has some very strong opinions about what he's done with his life since they last met.
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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.
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- Part 2 of Those Left Behind
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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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Months of struggle end in nothing. The night before they face their final foe, Durge!Tav grapples with the ramifications of what happened in the Temple of Bhaal. Spoilers for Dark Urge, and broadly speaking Act 3 of BG3. Angsty and not much else.
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