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Life is made up of things that happen to people, and it’s also made up of how people react to those things. Wyll is young, still, and it affects how others perceive him, but this is a truth that he knows. He makes his choices with the information he has and the life that he’s lived and the life that he’ll continue to live. He can’t do anything more. He likes to believe that everyone is doing the best that they can.
And when a tiefling covered in blood appears, mace shattering the skull of a goblin attacker outside the Emerald Grove, Wyll has no reason to think any differently of her. The elf with her helps repel the assault, too, though he complains all the while, but they’re tied together.
And Wyll’s not sure about what to do about the tadpole in his head as is. He hasn’t turned, and the elf and the tiefling both vibrate with the same energy. All of them have been illithid-touched.
That’s why it surprises him when the tiefling and the elf pay him no attention at all. They speak briefly with Zevlor before moving on to the druids. The elf is happy to follow the tiefling’s lead, and Wyll couldn’t follow them even if he wanted to.
He thinks they’ll stop before they leave, but they don’t. Wyll overhears that they plan to go find Halsin, and his feet carry him to the exit of the grove almost without intent.
The elf chatters away at her. “I don’t see what we gain from doing this for no pay–”
“Astarion.” When the tiefling speaks his name, Astarion stops. “They had nothing to give. We need to find Halsin anyway.”
Astarion rolls his eyes. “Nora. Darling. Honestly. The wonderful thing about being a paladin no longer bound to an oath is that you are a paladin no longer bound to an oath.”
But Nora doesn’t bite back in the slightest. She blinks at him like she doesn’t even register that she’s being insulted. Her gaze is entirely empty.
“I heard you seek the druid Halsin,” Wyll says, and Nora’s lightless eyes turn to him.
“Yes, Blade of Frontiers,” she says, voice rote like she’s reading from a script. “But you don’t want to join us, even if you think you do.”
Wyll cocks an eyebrow. Astarion sighs and crosses his arms.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Wyll says. “I can feel that you both have tadpoles yourselves. Should we not seek a solution together?”
When Nora makes a noncommittal humming noise, Astarion purses his lips impatiently. But Nora takes her time anyway, eyes searching him as if he might wear an ulterior motive on his face.
Wyll holds her gaze, and finally, Nora says, “I kill people.”
Astarion barks out a laugh. “She has such a way with words, doesn’t she?”
Wyll tilts his head to the side, smiling. “Aren’t we all killers these days? We made quite the team against those goblins, after all.”
When Nora shakes her head, it’s still that same deliberate pace. “You don’t understand. I kill people without meaning to. If you want to join us, you should know that. I killed an innocent wizard on the way here. I had no ill will in my heart, but when the compulsion took hold, I had no choice.”
Astarion inspects his nails. “I don’t know if I’d call him innocent. Those robes were a crime.”
The wind catches Nora’s braid. It half-tangles around the hilt of her mace.
“I wouldn’t want to kill you.” The words are simple, but Wyll can see the pain behind them anyway. The corners of Nora’s mouth quiver, and she pulls her braid over her shoulder. “But I fear I wouldn’t have a say in the matter. I seek to conquer the urge, but I don’t understand it. Whether or not you join us is a choice for you to make.”
“Yes, gods know we shouldn’t ask Astarion for his opinion–”
Astarion is still talking, but Nora pays him little mind. Maybe she’s listening, but she’s looking at Wyll.
And she looks lonely. And lost. And more than a little scared.
Wyll’s lips move the same way that his feet had before. “If Halsin’s a skilled enough healer to free us of the tadpoles, perhaps he’ll have a cure for your affliction as well.”
Nora’s lips part like he’s surprised her. Astarion huffs. “Lovely. Two do-gooders for the price of one. Everything’s coming up Astarion.”
Still, for all his complaints, he falls in on Nora’s left side as Wyll steps up on her right. And this is a rash decision, of course, given that Nora’s just admitted to having a compulsion towards killing.
“So, let’s recap,” Astarion says, holding up one finger. “You killed the wizard that you pulled out of the rock.” A second finger joins the first. “You found me after, and I love killing, so me joining up wasn’t really a surprise.” A third is quick to follow. “The cleric turned you down because she had some all-important personal quest.” A fourth finger. “And the githyanki didn’t take kindly to us not immediately caving to her whims.” Finally, he’s holding out an open palm. “But the Blade of Frontiers? Oh, sure, he’s more than happy to join up with a self-confessed murderer.”
Wyll chuckles a little despite himself. “I relish the danger. What’s adventure without risk?”
Nora didn’t have to warn him, but she did. She and Astarion seek a cure for the worm in their heads. And Wyll is young, still. He can afford foolhardiness every now and again.
After all, life is made up of things that happen to people, and it’s also made up of how people react to those things.
Wyll likes to believe that everyone is doing the best that they can, no matter the demons they’re fighting.