In the tumult of the disbanding of the Alliance of the Giant Tribes -- or whatever Dothan chooses to call this in the years that follow – a small figure slips away toward the great southern cliff. Whatever excitement is found at the end of that day, Illian is not a part of it, he goes looking for a moment of peace. To sit and face the demons he has made for himself. The creatures that lay waiting in his Dark.
He sits on a rock, with his feet dangling over the precipice. His swords and pack are not too far behind, but he relishes the moment to sit without his blades. They are his companions, and he will not let them wander too far from his side, but they scared him in the tunnels. The way they leapt to life in his hands. The way they danced like they hadn’t in a decade or more. His strength was returning, somehow, that he could feel, but there were moments that he couldn’t recall, when the thrill pulled his conscious mind into darkness, until he stood over his enemy covered in blood.
Dothan called him a hero, but Illian wasn’t so sure. He had never taken a life of someone who couldn’t fight back. That wasn’t right. Was it? That wasn’t the path he traveled. But it was so easy; so quick! They couldn’t have felt pain. That, at least, is a small comfort to the Halfling. His thoughts, tumble faster, like the water below. He stills his mind, and listens to the rumble of white, frothed water. Until there is another sound.
“I have to go,” says the voice that is Hedda. Illian turns a half turn, stopping himself. She is not there. She has never been there.
“You’re not here,” he mumbles to himself.
“Of course not, dearest. You know that. But that hasn’t stopped you from talking to me before. But I can’t stay here anymore. It’s time for me to go.”
“Why? If you’re just a part of me. Why do you have to go? You help me think.”
There is a sigh, almost imperceptible that escape Illian’s lips.
“I do not. Well, I don’t. Not anymore. When I was your love, I helped you. But I took that from you, I think. Even if the thing that I took wasn’t yours to have in the first place. That was you, wishing something to be true.”
“It was true,” Illian grumbles.
“…wishing something to be true. I did love you, Il. I do still love you. But my heart was given to Akif. If I could have given it to both of you I would.”
“I miss you.”
“I know, dearest.”
Illian looks out at nothing, remembering the years he gave of himself to save Hedda, Akif. Himself. He begins to hum a tune, something he heard a priestess hum as he walked beside her as they went to cleanse a haunted mansion of a great evil. What seems like years ago now.
“That’s a pretty tune.”
Illian stops, abruptly, embarrassed.
“Oh come off it, you child, you are allowed to love another. Though you might want to make sure that she feels the same before you go looking for her.”
“Of course she doesn’t know who I am.”
“With eyes like yours I wouldn’t be so sure of yourself.”
Illian blushes, and is glad no one is around to see.
“I always loved your eyes. They are mirrors, you know. I could see myself in you. And you could see you in me. Which is why you fought so hard to hold on to me.”
“Why do you have to go?”
“Because you don’t need me anymore. And there are people who need you. All of you. Not just the part that sticks things with sharp objects.”
“I killed giants while they slept.”
“Then you are strong.”
“I killed giants while they slept, Hedda! I killed them when they couldn’t defend themselves.”
“Haven’t you heard of the greater good? Isn’t that what your friends were telling you? Isn’t that what Dothan was telling you?”
“She called me a hero.”
“You ARE a hero.”
“I am not.”
“No, you’re a crotchety old bastard who can only feel sorry for himself.”
“They were…”
“Then don’t do it again. You are only what your actions say you are. You can struggle with this all you want. Just don’t do it again if you feel that way about it. Stop yelling at me for something that you can’t handle. Which is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done because you’re doing it to yourself! This. THIS is why I have to go.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t need me. You need you! All of you. You’ve been so busy looking for yourself you never knew it when you found you. You are here. You are whole. You are healed. You are stronger than you’ve ever been. Live YOUR life. Not this life. I am from the life you left. You don’t NEED ME ANYMORE.”
“Uncle?” the voice is soft. Sung on the breeze. Dothan knew her uncle would leave. He always went to be alone after an adventure. She never quite understood why, but she would, someday. She would keep watching and thinking and looking. That is what a Dothan is made of.
“You need her.”
“Are you okay?” asks Dothan. She had watched him pace for a good fifteen minutes. Clearly struggling with something, but she had remained silent. But he had stopped, and stood still, looking over the edge of the cliff. That wasn’t right. Wouldn’t be right. So she spoke.
“She needs you.”
“I’ll miss you,” Illian says to nothing at all.
“Are you going away?” asks Dothan.
“And that’s okay,” says Hedda.
“It will be hard.”
“Uncle, you’re scaring me,” says Dothan, she takes a step forward.
“And that’s okay, too,” says Hedda.
“What if I’m not strong enough?”
Dothan takes another step forward. Illian puts one hand up. She stops.
“That’s never stopped you before,” Says Hedda.
They stand like that for a moment, a halfling with one hand in the air, praying to the heavens. A half-orc with concern in her eyes, but letting her uncle be. And a voice, unseen, slowly fading into memory.
“Does she know?”
“Know what? Il, tell me what’s going on?” Dothan takes another step forward.
“Only you know the answer to that question,” says Hedda before her voice completely fades. It is the last time that Illian will hear that voice, though he silently promises to visit her again.
Dothan puts her hand on Illian’s shoulder. He reaches up, taking it in his own.
“Your mother is so proud of you,” he says, by way of explanation, “I…” he hesitates, a moment, “I am so proud of you, Dothan, my Ghostsong.”
They turn and pick up his gear, Dothan carrying it lightly for the Halfling. She begins to tell him all the exciting things that she learned in the library. He lets her talk, loving the sound of her voice. She is his family, whatever that might mean, and he is proud of her. He’s proud of Kay, too, and all of those that are his family. The hole in his heart where Hedda lived is empty, and aches a little. But each laugh of Dothan fills it a little more until he is laughing too.
“I found him off on his own again,” shouts Dothan as they storm the party’s camp for the night, to the happy cheers of the company. And while they might not have a place to call their own, Illian knows deep, in that space in his heart, that he is home.
tl;dr Illian Stories
- Eliahad
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tl;dr Illian Stories
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to roll an 8."
"I'm going to roll an 8."
Re: tl;dr Illian Stories
You sad old grumpy bastard you. Well done. I love that.
All I know is my food tastes better when I take my food-tastes-better pill.
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Re: tl;dr Illian Stories
You mean this whole time, Illian's been hearing voices in his head? Thank the gods he didn't go postal on us in the middle of the night, only on those poor sleeping giants!
I kid! I kid, because I care! In all seriousness, nice story!
I kid! I kid, because I care! In all seriousness, nice story!
Wash: "This is gonna get pretty interesting."
Mal: "Define interesting."
Wash: "Oh, God, oh, God, we're all gonna die?"
Mal: "Define interesting."
Wash: "Oh, God, oh, God, we're all gonna die?"
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Re: tl;dr Illian Stories
Excellent ravings!
"The lines between kindness, apathy, and thickheadedness can be very thin." - Nakatani Nio Sensei
“The direction of escape is toward freedom. So what is ‘escapism’ an accusation of?” - Ursula K. Le Guin
“The direction of escape is toward freedom. So what is ‘escapism’ an accusation of?” - Ursula K. Le Guin
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Re: tl;dr Illian Stories
I love it! Nice to see he is gradually getting some closure. But who knows what will happen next...!
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Re: tl;dr Illian Stories
Thanks, folks! He is a curmudgeonly bastard, or at least he was, but I'd like to think he was a curmudgeonly bastard for a reason. I need to work on changing his tone as he starts to get the closure he's been looking for. That will be a good challenge for me, I think. I will also try and inject a little more description and role-playing into our online sessions. It's tricky in the format, I get, but I think it's something that's gotten away from me.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to roll an 8."
"I'm going to roll an 8."
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