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1492 DR, E.G.
You are undeniably, and irrefutably gone. What sap could I shed onto a page that would not further complicate my thoughts on the matter? You would never want some solemn memorial. You were formidable as ever, dare I say the quintessence of a perfect being amidst our world, yet I should never elaborate on this fact. You and I both know it would be useless to what we desired, and coddling has no place among Chosen. I did not weep for any other loss, and I would not ever desecrate precious time with frivolous emotions- Bane would be satisfied knowing I cared not for another but only for his will.
Yet I am most certain once I remove my vestments I will be utterly paralyzed with grief. I envision myself in my mind’s eye dropping to the floors and weeping, perhaps even struggling to breathe or function. Even now I can feel the torrent of tormenting anguish lap at the edges of my enchantments, struggling to break loose with the weight I must now carry. I confess I have not removed my garbs in at least three fortnights in fear of what may spew forth. One pitiful attempt was made, truly, but the second the fabric came up over my chest bile threatened to push up my throat should I have continued. I kept them on.
It is sickening to think of what Orin had to say for herself, when I called to her to answer for your disappearance.
‘Dearest bloodkin can’t come to play right now; too busy singing with the circling vultures over the pulsing mess left of their skull.’
I wished to tear that vile being limb from limb, hang her bloodied maw by the hair over the Coast. But I cannot- one must remain to control what you’ve left in your absence, and if it must be her then who am I to deny the will of the Dead Three? Even more so, what power does a lover companion have over the wishes of a sibling, despite whatever twisted form she may present herself as? Who am I, of all men, to cast judgment on familial strife? What would I know of the matter, and furthermore, what have I ever experienced of it myself? Every time dusk falls I turn to vices more than I should, and you would detest me for it, I am aware. Catharsis is the only numbing force I have dominion over, and I hope you would take pity on me despite everything we have shared of strength and stoicism. I am but a waiting dog by my bedroom door; every rush of a breeze or billow of curtains sends my neck nearly snapping to see if it might be you at my window once more. Bloodied and bruised, staunch and exhausted, I would not hesitate to take you in my arms and hold you close so you might never be lost again. We would tell no other of it, of the soft sentimentality I would impart to you, but not even our Gods would be present. It would be just you and I.
Perhaps if I send this entry to the wind it would find you in some twist of fate. Wherever you may be, wherever your body may lie, the thought you should read this and return to me is the only daydream that allows me respite. The more drink I intake, the more I feel my thoughts become rational in their delusions. Bhaal would never send his favored spawn to the gutter. Bhaal would never choose a leader for you to simply die by the hands of a madwoman. Most of all, I would not believe in such a weak partner to rule at my side. Your heart beats yet, I can feel it. Can you feel mine too? My blood pumping in search of its mate? Who should see this where I should deny what we were?
I beg the Dark Lord to have pity on me for what tears through me every waking moment. I pray for deliverance to strength, and for absolvence of my sins to care for anyone other than myself. May you find me again, my beloved compatriot.
I had always sensed there was something more from the very beginning. I struggle to continue my faith in Gortash if this is the state of his mind. - Ketheric