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The nightmares start after Glamour Springs.
He doesn’t remember sleeping when he and Sazed ran - but then, he doesn’t remember a lot of any of that - but he remembers after, when he keeps his head down and his presence low. He avoids all those towns he’d grown to love, never stays in one place for too long.
It’s like before. Taako had promised he’d never go back to the caravan life, but life, well, life had decided to fuck him over.
But, well, he supposes that isn’t right. This was his fault, all because of those fucking elderberries.
All because he’d gotten over-confident.
He’d wanted too much, he’d flown too close to the sun, and this was life reminding him of his place in the world, some fucking nobody who had no one left to call family and no place to call home.
Taako keeps moving, sleeps when his body forces him to, goes over that recipe every day to the point that garlic makes his stomach churn with misery and meat makes him sick on sight.
In his nightmares, he watches Glamour Springs die over and over again. Sometimes Sazed is there, demanding to know what he’d done, and Taako never knows how to answer.
Had Sazed actually asked that? Taako doesn’t know. He doesn’t remember - he’d gone on lockdown when they’d ran, and hadn’t come up for air until Sazed left him behind with nothing but the clothes on his back.
He wishes he could hate Sazed for it - but anyone with blood on their hands would have run.
Six years don’t ease the guilt. He knows that recipe by heart now, can smell the garlic and chicken in his sleep.
Death hangs over him, dulling his senses. It’s easier to pretend he doesn’t care, it’s easier to hold everyone at arm’s length. If no one gets close, no one can hurt him, no one can leave him behind, no one will know he’s a miserable fuckup who killed forty people -
Phandalin adds to the death toll. Taako tries to tell himself it doesn’t matter.
He’s wrong, but he knew that already.
He’d always been a shitty liar.
Goldcliff fucks with him.
Refuge, however? Refuge leaves him in a bad place.
How he’d managed to talk with Kravitz - much less go on a date with him - is beyond him, but he managed it somehow. The days since then blur into weeks and months.
Sazed with that arsenic bottle has been burned into his mind. The Chalice’s words echo even now, making his stomach churn with disgust.
His cooking had been fine. That was a relief, as selfish as that was, but he can’t get past Sazed. Sazed, who had traveled with him for years, Sazed, who he’d taught cooking to, Sazed, who he had trusted, as much as Taako could fucking trust anyone.
Where had it gone wrong? Taako puzzles it over and over and no matter how hard he thinks, there’s no plausible answer. The stupid Chalice had said shit about jealousy, but jealousy didn’t lead to murder. Boo fucking hoo, he hadn’t wanted to partner up with him, Sazed could have just fucking left to start his own show.
No, instead the fucker had left him high and dry, letting him think he was a murderer. He almost wishes he could have taken up the Chalice’s offer, just to Mage Hand him so hard that he’d turn into paste against the pavement. He deserved at least that much, the shitheel.
Taako stares at the ceiling, Stone of Farspeech in hand. He absently tosses it up and down, and every time it smacks against his palm, the gears start to turn.
A question forms. He starts to tune the Stone’s frequency - and then, in a rare case of not being an emotional disaster, thinks better of it.
Not today. Not...not yet.
He’s not ready to make that hurdle just yet.
Taako puts the Stone beside his pillow and closes his eyes. When sleep claims him, he’s back in Glamour Springs again. Sazed stands before him, eyes wide in disbelief and horror, and again demands to know what just happened.
Taako finally has an answer: that it wasn’t his fault.
The dream doesn’t end - it keeps going as if he hadn’t spoken - but there’s a weight on Taako’s shoulders that lessens just a little, a guilt that ebbs away from him just a bit.
It’s something, he supposes.